


Lost and Found

by vthelarrie



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Louis, Falling In Love, Famous Louis Tomlinson, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, No Angst, Non-Famous Harry, Top Harry, and clifford being cute, honestly this is just about them falling in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:28:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 51,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27589550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vthelarrie/pseuds/vthelarrie
Summary: There's nothing the famous singer Louis Tomlinson loves more than his dog, especially during times like these where he can't find inspiration to write.Bookstore owner Harry Styles takes in the black labradoodle that was (most likely) abandoned near his shop.or, where Louis is just looking for his dog but finds love along the way.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 12
Kudos: 337





	1. lost

**Author's Note:**

> helloo! First of all I just want to say how excited I am to finally publish this fic! My original idea was for it to be around 20k and have done by Halloween... well, that didn't work. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this 50k work of fluff. 
> 
> This fic is based on my own social media au I published on twitter, which you can read [here](https://twitter.com/00svicky/status/1254805190269702145?s=20). I took the main idea, but the stories turned out to be completely different, with the exception of a few small details, so you can read one without reading the other!
> 
> I hope you enjoy it, and if you do please don't forget to leave a comment or kudos!

⤜ L ⤛

There’s nothing Louis appreciates more than a good cup of tea in the morning with his big black labradoodle trailing behind him in the kitchen.

The fallen leaves cover his front yard with different shades of red, yellow and orange. It would be an inspiring image to write to, Louis thinks, as he imagines himself sitting on the front porch, his old notebook on his lap and a cup of Yorkshire tea beside him. See, in his imagination it’s perfect; he’d spend hours in that rocking chair with nothing but his thoughts and melodies to keep him company and he’d be happy with that.

Reality, though, it’s much different.

He has his dog barking loudly at his side, demanding for his attention as he tries to pour some water into his cup without spilling it. His notebook –in which he _should_ be writing the lyrics to his next album– lays forgotten somewhere in his home studio, where Louis hasn’t set a foot in since the last time Zayn had been there trying to force some lyrics out of him.

Louis really has tried to write on his new album, he really has, but every time he sits in the studio he had custom made for his house with a guitar on his hand or in front of the piano, no words would come out. Usually it’s so _easy_ for him, to just let the lyrics and melodies flow out of his body and into a paper, but ever since his last world tour ended, he doesn’t find inspiration as easily as he once did.

Zayn would blame him, of course. _You’ve become a hermit, Louis_ , he tells him at least once a week when he calls to check up on his writing process, and there’s never enough progress. But it’s hard for Louis; he can’t really go anywhere without getting mobbed or stopped by every five minutes for a picture. He loves his fans, he truly does, but sometimes he can’t help but think Zayn is right, he really has become sort of like a hermit, he can’t remember the last time he went to a party without it feeling like aa job, _Christ_ , he can’t even remember the last time he went on a date.

A loud bark and something pulling on his sweatpants gets him out of his thoughts.

“Calm down, boy!” Louis says, ruffling the top of Clifford’s head as he tries to push him away. He loves his dog, but he won’t allow him to keep munching all his clothes, especially _not_ his most comfortable pair. 

Clifford nudges his thigh with his nose, looking up at him expectantly.

“Fine,” Louis says out loud, emptying the content of his cup in one gulp, raising his hands in the air to show that he’s ready. “Fine, we’re going out, I swear a kid would demand less attention than you”.

He rolls his eyes fondly when he sees Clifford walking excitedly towards the door, his leash hanging from the key holder beside it.

Zayn was the one who told him it would be a nice idea to get a place of his own in London. He had given him a list of posh apartments located on parts of the city where celebrities were known to live. Louis discharged the idea quickly, he wanted to live somewhere where he wouldn’t be spotted easily, hopefully where no one would imagine a famous popstar lived. He did the house hunting job himself, narrowing down his options to old houses in old neighbourhoods, still classy and comfortable, surrounded by not superficial people.

When he first stepped into his now-owned house, it was like every dream Louis had pushed to the back of his mind popped up again. He could see himself growing old in that big old white house; a husband by his side sitting in the front porch, children running around the backyard playing in the swings already installed, hanging from a big tree located towards the back of the yard.

The house was old – _almost a hundred years old_ , the real state lady told him–, but the inside was completely renovated, a modern kitchen and bathrooms, a big fireplace on the main living room and enough rooms to have the big family he’d always dreamed of. It was an easy decision after that.

Unfortunately, his life hasn’t gone the way he’d imagined when his 21-year-old self had bought the house. He’d been young then, only two years into his music career, with more money he could ever imagine, and with the conviction he would find someone to spend his life with.

Now, though, at almost 26 years old, his life is at a very different place. He has even more money now, but still no one to share it with; he has released four successful albums and gone on three world tours, he has more awards than he could possibly need and has met way too many influential people.

Louis made the decision to buy Clifford two years ago; he had been on a break from his tour, his best friend –Zayn– wasn’t in London at the time, busy having meetings in LA, his sisters were at that weird teenage phase where they were too cool to hang out with their famous older brother, and he was feeling lonely. His house was too big and cold for him, and he craved having something else to listen to than his own breathing.

He went to an adoption shelter and he fell in love with the black puppy no one wanted; when he asked why they said it was because he would grow to be a big dog, and people usually wanted tiny one. Louis didn’t care, he had a yard and a house big enough to have Clifford. So, he adopted him, finishing the last two months of his tour with a puppy waiting for him after every show.

He’s startled by the sound of Clifford whimpering as he scratches the door, trying to get Louis’ attention.

“Sorry, lad,” Louis tells him as he walks toward the dog, grabbing his leash and hooking it to his collar. “C’mon, babe, let’s go”.

He opens the door and Clifford walks happily by his side, making their usual route to a small park near the park they discovered a few weeks ago.

That’s another one of Zayn’s suggestions, to go out on walks, discover new places that have been hidden under his plain sight all this time, find inspiration on the simple things. To be honest, he’s not getting much inspiration for new music from freezing due to the autumnal wind, but he enjoys walking with Clifford, so he does it anyway.

He exchanges a few polite nods and greetings from the people he runs into during his walk, most of them knowing him not because he’s Louis Tomlinson, but because he is _that young man who moved into the old Lancaster’s house_. It always makes him smile; it gives him an odd sense of ordinariness, something he doesn’t feel quite often because of his job.

Once they arrive at the park, Louis sets Clifford free to run around as he sits in one of the cold wooden benches and takes out his phone, balancing it between his fingers.

Clifford comes running to him with a branch between his teeth and drops it in front of Louis. His phone starts ringing just as he’s crouching to pick it up.

“Go on, boy,” Louis says to Clifford, as he throws the branch as far away as he can. The phone stops ringing, only to start again.

With a roll of his eyes, Louis picks up, without checking who it is.

“Yeah?” he says, keeping his eyes on his dog, who just took off behind his rustic toy.

“In a bit of a mood, are we?” Zayn’s sarcastic voice comes through the speaker, making Louis groan. “Are you not happy I called?”

“Since I know _why_ you called,” Louis answers, and he sounds tired even to his own ears, “not really, no”.

“Wow, Louis, I didn’t know you could read minds now,” Zayn jokes. “And why have I called if I may now?”

Louis rests his elbows on his thighs, rubbing his hands over his face. “You called to ask me how my writing is going”.

Zayn hums, confirming Louis’ suspicion.

“You’ll be disappointed to now it’s still shit,” Louis says. “Haven’t written anything since the last time you came over”.

“So, nothing at all, then,” the other man comments.

“Nope,” Louis corroborates.

“Lou…” Zayn starts, and the singer sighs, mentally preparing himself. “You know you have a deadline, right? At least for the new single”.

“I know, Z,” he says, resting back on the bench. “It’s just–, It’s been hard. I don’t know what’s happening to me, mate, like, two years ago you could’ve given me a teabag and I’d be able to write a song about it and now I–,” his voice trembles, he clears his throat and tries again. “Now I feel like I’m stuck. I’m stuck and there’s nothing that can get me out of this, I dunno, this writer’s block, I guess. I’ve tried everything you’ve told me, Z, I promise, like, I go out almost every day, I try playing with different keys on the piano or force lyrics out and write them down, but _nothing’s working_ ,” he finishes breathlessly, finally letting it all out.

“Oh, Lou…” Zayn whispers. “I’ll do my best to push back the date, okay? I can’t promise it’ll work but I’ll _try_ ,” he says, making Louis’ lips curve into a small, self-pitying smile.

“Thank you, Z,” he tells him honestly.

“It’s okay, but _please_ , try to get something out,” Zayn urges. “You’re one of the best songwriters out there, Lou, if anyone can get out of a writer’s block it’s you, I know you can”.

It’s moments like this where it really hits Louis how lucky he is to have a best friend like Zayn. He doesn’t know how his manager, who’s also the same age as he is, became his best friend, but he’s sure as hell grateful for it. Even though Zayn is only his PR manager, and therefore has no connection to his record label, he can come up with a few excuses to justify Louis’ delay.

“Thanks, mate,” Louis says again. “I really hope you’re right about the writing thing”.

“Me too,” Zayn says, making them both laugh. “But honestly, your fans miss you”.

Louis lets out a loud cackle. “How can that happen if I only finished touring a couple weeks ago”.

“You know they start missing you when you haven’t been seen in a day, Lou, let alone a freaking _month_ ,” Zayn says, making the singer snort.

“But I tweeted!” Louis says defensively. He loves his fans a lot though, even if they’re demanding with him, everything he has it’s thanks to them, and he wouldn’t change it for the world.

“Yeah, three days ago!” Zayn shoots back, laughing. “You know how they are,” he comments, Louis nods, only then realizing his friend can’t see him.

“Yeah,” he says. “They’re the best, innit?”

Zayn hums in agreement. A moment passes in silence.

“How about a boyfriend?” Zayn asks then, making Louis choke on his own saliva.

“A what?” Louis says, coughing in order to make his voice sound normal.

He can practically _hear_ Zayn rolling his eyes. “A boyfriend,” he repeats. “You know, that thing gay blokes like you have, someone to cuddle, kiss, have sex–”.

“I know what a boyfriend is, Zayn,” Louis says. “What I don’t know is what does a boyfriend have to do with me”.

“It could help you get inspiration!” Zayn says, and it sounds as if he’s trying to explain something easy to a five-year-old.

“Okay, Z,” Louis laughs. “I’m gonna hang up now…” he says, and he can hear Zayn yelling on the line as he lowers the phone from his ear.

“I hate you; it was a good idea, I’m never being nice to you aga–,” his voice gets cut as Louis ends the call, his chuckles sound loudly in the empty park.

Louis pockets his phone, a grin still plastered on his face. It’s not the first time he and Zayn have talked about his lack of dating history he’s had during the past couple of years, but it always ends in the same way: Louis hanging up –or changing the topic– without indulging on his best friend’s comments.

Besides, it’s not like Louis has been _avoiding_ dating, or he’s _purposely_ staying single; he’s had boyfriends in the past, some public ones, even, but throughout the years, as his career became more demanding every year, it turned out to be harder than he’d imagined to maintain a relationship in between world tours and rumours. Eventually, he stopped trying, he started focusing his attention on his career and, to be frank, he didn’t miss it. He’s not on a dry spell, he still hooks up with people from the industry or random blokes he pulls at a bar, and even if those encounters lack the intimacy or the cuddles he sometimes craves, it’s more than enough.

Right now, he has more important things to worry about, or so he tells himself whenever his mind drifts off to think about how much he’d like to have someone to share all his memories with, someone who could turn into a reality all those dreams about filling his house with love and kids, someone to wake up to every morning, knowing they’ll always be there for you, unconditionally. _No_. He has other things –more important things– to worry about: first, he needs to write an album; second, he needs to figure out how his dog has managed to cover himself entirely with mud.

Louis groans as he stands up and starts walking towards his dirty dog. It’s going to be a long day.

⤜ H ⤛

Harry steps out of the train with a groan.

One would think that rich people would live their lives happy, relaxed, even; a year into owning a bookstore on the upper side of London has taught Harry otherwise.

People are always in a rush, no one giving him a second glance when they stumble with him, spilling coffee all over his jacket, not even bothering to give him an apology. They don’t have time for that, they have to work to keep making money, even if they affect others on the way to achieve that.

It’s not all bad, of course, and Harry’s just in a bad mood today. He is grateful for the rich people, sort of. He owns a small bookstore at a very private neighborhood, and even though he definitely won’t be living in one of those houses any time soon, his sales allow him to pay his bills and save money. So, yeah, he is grateful for them because they buy the books he sales and drink coffee from his best mate’s –Liam– coffeeshop, which is located right next to Harry’s store.

He takes the steps two at a time, in a rush to get out of the underground. He tries to open his store during rush hour, that way it can be ready for selling by the time it’s over. There was a time where Harry would wake up early to have the bookshop open before rush hour, but when he figured out his income wasn’t increasing, he stopped doing it. Liam told him it was because people who needed to get to their works fast probably wouldn’t stop to buy a book on the way. Harry figured out he was probably right.

Once he finally finds himself on the street, he slowly makes his way to his shop. Harry always takes the time to appreciate the houses from the neighbourhood; most of them look old, but in a pretty, aesthetically pleasing way, as if the people living in them have tried to keep the old look of them on purpose. They probably have, Harry reasons, thinking about how if he had lots of money, he’d probably have a house like that as well.

The wind hits his face violently as he reaches an avenue, his shoulder length curls spanking his cheeks with so much force it actually hurts.

He takes one of the scrunchies he always keeps on his wrist ever since he decided to start growing out his hair and ties his wild curls into a bun. He cringes when he thinks about how tangled they’ll be when he lets them loose again inside the store.

Harry gets a message as he’s waiting for a green light. It’s from a group-chat he has with Liam and Niall, whom co-own the coffeeshop next to Harry’s, and whom he has been best friends since university.

He checks the message quickly and sees that is Liam asking him to go over to their store for lunch. Harry quickly types back an **_okay_** and pockets his phone.

Harry’s really grateful for the friends he has; he never imagined what their lives would turn out to be when they met at fresher’s week during their first year of university. All of them had been eighteen, ready to party and have a good time. Now, six years later, almost twenty-four years old, and many shared anecdotes, the three of them are inseparable, and unconditionally loyal to their small group.

Deciding that the next step for his life as an adult was buying a bookstore was hard for Harry. It had been hard work and many insecurities. His family was sceptical about his decision, especially in the beginning; and it wasn’t because they thought it wouldn’t work, but because it isn’t the most traditional path to buy an old bookshop on the upper side of London after graduating with a degree in History. He knew his family loved him and supported him, but up until this day he feels like he needs to prove to them that this was in fact the right decision for him, that no matter how hard it was he would make it work somehow.

He never felt that way with Liam and Niall. When he first told them about his plan they had screamed and congratulated him, taking him out to celebrate for finally figuring out _what the fuck you want to do with yourself_ , as Niall had said. They had gotten drunk on cheap bear and by the next morning, when his friends told him they would be tagging along in his plan and would buy a coffeeshop, Harry knew he could always count on them for anything.

He smiles to himself as he continues his way to the store, deciding to take a shortcut through a small park to get to his bookstore faster.

Harry loves the way parks look at this time of the year, the leaves covering the ground, the trees looking naked without their coverage, but he still finds beauty in them, knowing that the emptiness of their branches it’s only because they’re preparing for something better, they’re preparing to deal with the cold winter only to blossom stronger and alluring when spring comes around.

He smiles at the thought.

“Honestly, lad, what am I going to do with you?” Harry hears somewhere beside him, a strong northern accent accompanying the words. Curiosity taking the best of him, Harry turns his head slightly to his left, trying to see what would a fellow northern be doing in this side of London.

Just like in a movie, Harry feels his feet getting glued to the floor when he catches sight of the owner of the voice. His vision gets blurry around the edges and all he can focus on is the small frame of the man close to him, the way his brown hair falls on his forehead on a _oh so soft_ looking fringe, and how Harry thinks he has never seen eyes on that particular shade of blue.

The stranger doesn’t seem the notice the tornado he’s causing inside of Harry’s mind, focused instead on the dirty looking black dog walking beside him.

“Really, did you have to go and rub yourself against the mud? You like to make me suffer, don’t you?” The man says dramatically, and his voice is _raspy and manly and soft_ all at the same time.

Harry observes as the stranger bends to put a leash on the dog, probably preparing to make their way back to their house. The handsome man gives his dog one long thoughtful look before letting out a low chuckle, raising his hand to pet the dog’s head. They start walking without another sound, Harry following them with his eyes. _Bye, beautiful stranger, hope you have a lovely life_ , Harry thinks as they disappear from sight.

He huffs out a small laugh at his own thoughts and continues his way.

Well, it isn’t the first time Harry falls for a stranger on the street, half imagining a life beside them, and it certainly won’t be the last.

When Harry arrives at his store, his best friends have already opened theirs. He waves at them as he walks in front of the glass and enters his own place.

Harry really loves his bookshop, and, even if sometimes it gets hard, his sales not always good enough to cover every bill he needs to pay, he gets to do what he loves, and he’s grateful for that. He gets to talk every day with lovely old people about literature and history, opening himself up to new recommendations each day. He loves to pay attention to the books that get bought more frequently, or the ones everyone looks up and then are left behind on the shelves again. He loves how he can simply put on the _closed_ sign up, take a book with him and enjoy a coffee with his best friends by walking less than a minute down the street.

“Good morning, darling,” Harry lifts his head and smiles as he sees the old woman that just entered the store. She’s a regular, comes at least once or twice a week.

“Good morning,” Harry says, giving her a small grin. “Did you already finish that book you took last week?” he asks surprised, he always thought he reads fast, but this woman is from another planet.

“Yes!” she says excitedly, walking to the counter where Harry is standing behind. “I finished it last night and I just had to come buy the second one”.

He laughs, understanding the feeling too well.

“Well, then, we better look for it,” he says, smiling politely at her. She tells him the name of the book she’s looking for, and in less than five minutes Harry has the book in hand, scanning the barcode as the woman takes out her wallet and hands him her credit card.

Once everything is done, and the woman is saying goodbye from the door, Harry picks up a random book from one of the shelves and sits behind the counter to read.

The day goes by slowly, only a couple more people entering the store, and by the time lunch time rolls around Harry’s dozing off. With a relieved sigh he stands up, puts the closed sign on the door and walks to his friends’ coffeeshop.

“Harold!” Niall says loudly, as soon as Harry walks through the door. He walks around the corner and pulls Harry into a short hug. “Long time, no see,” he says, making Harry chuckle.

“You literally saw me two days ago, Nialler,” Harry smiles at how ridiculous his best friend is.

“That’s too long,” Niall says dramatically, as he covers his face with his hands and sobs into them.

Harry snorts and pushes him playfully. He walks to the door at the back of the room, where he knows Liam is in.

“I wouldn’t go in there if I were you,” Niall says, and Harry stops, turning to look at him inquiringly. “He’s talking with Sophia on the phone,” he explains, shrugging.

Harry thinks about it for a split second before making the decision to stay in the main room with Niall; if Liam is talking to his girlfriend on the phone in the back room, he’s either fighting with her or having phone sex with her, and Harry is sure he doesn’t want to witness any of those options.

Niall decides to eat one of the sandwiches they sell in the coffeeshop as lunch, and Harry settles on a salad. They sit at one of the tables and joke around, Niall telling him he plans to fly his family from Ireland to spend Christmas here, Harry shrugs when his friend asks him about his plans for the Holidays.

“It’s October, so I have nothing planned yet,” he says. “Mom and Robin are going on a cruise, so they won’t be here, and Gemma’s going to spend it with her boyfriend’s family, so I’m on my own this year,” he shrugs, attempting to sound nonchalant. He must fail miserably if the look his friend gives him is anything to go by.

“You’re welcome to join me and my family, you know,” Niall tells him, giving him a smile.

“Thanks, Nialler, we’ll see how it goes,” Harry returns the smile, grateful for his friend’s offer, but knowing he won’t take it when the time comes. He knows how much Niall missed his family and he would hate to intrude on their reunion.

Liam comes through the back door thirty minutes later, his eyes shining, and his cheeks tinted red. Harry and Niall exchange a mischievous look and start making loud moaning noises, making Liam blush even more.

By the time he makes his way back to the bookstore, Harry’s stomach is hurting from laughing so much. He smiles all the way back home.

⤜ L ⤛

Louis groans and covers his head with the pillow as soon as his alarm starts. He takes a hand from under the duvet and fumbles for his phone. He lifts his head from under the pillow when he doesn’t find it. Squinting his eyes, trying to adjust to the darkness of the room, he locates his phone at the far end of his night table.

After he turns off the alarm, Louis rolls onto his back. He rubs his hands over his face, trying to get his brain started. He hears the door sliding open and a set of paws making their way to the end of the bed. He smiles to himself.

“Hey, boy,” he says, his voice sounds hoarse from having just woken up. He clears his throat and sits up to look at his dog. “You have to be a good boy today, okay champ?”

Clifford stares at him and Louis laughs at himself for talking to his dog. Clifford barks loudly when he sees Louis starting to lay back down in his bed.

“Alright, alright,” he grumbles, taking his feet from the duvet and stretching his arms over his head. “I heard you, I’m getting up,” he says when his dog barks again.

Louis walks to his closet, settling on a pair of loose jeans and a hoodie. He throws his clothes on top of the bed and walks to the bathroom to take a quick shower and shave.

Once he’s ready and dressed, he makes his bed without much effort and heads downstairs to his kitchen.

The routine to make himself breakfast passes quickly; he cooks some scrambled eggs and pours himself a cup of tea, he gives Clifford his food, smiling when the dog starts eating eagerly.

As he eats, Louis tries to come up with different excuses he could use today. He has a session scheduled on his label’s studio, and he knows he’s going to get lectured as soon as he drops the bomb that he hasn’t written anything since the last session they had almost three weeks ago.

When he realizes he doesn’t _actually_ have any excuses other than his lack of inspiration, Louis finishes his breakfast and puts his plate and cup on the sink. He’ll wash it once he comes back.

He brushes his teeth in the guest bathroom close to the kitchen, not being bothered to go upstairs. He fixes his hair on the mirror one last time and walks to the front door, Clifford following him closely.

“Okay, boy,” Louis says as he puts on a jacket. “See you later,” he tells Clifford, petting his head before walking out of the house and getting in his car.

He’s too busy concentrating on the cars coming down the road to realize that he didn’t close the front door completely.

⤜ H ⤛

Harry gets woken up by the sound of his phone ringing insistently. _Who the hell calls him early on his free day?_ He doesn’t usually take days off, but last night his stomach had been bothering him, so he decided to sleep in today. Or that had been his plan.

“Yeah?” he mutters, putting his phone on speaker.

“Harry!” Liam’s voice yells through the line, sounding frantic. Harry sits up fast. “Are you on your way yet?” He’s speaking rapidly, making Harry’s heart beat faster.

“I wasn’t going in today, what’s going on?” He asks, still seated on the bed, but alert.

“There’s a big black dog outside the store and it’s raining and he’s getting all wet and I think he might’ve been abandoned because he looks lost,” Liam explains hurriedly.

Harry grunts. “Did you wake me up to tell me there’s a dog outside the store?”

“And he looks lost!” Liam shrieks, and Harry can imagine the sad look on his face. “You know I’m allergic to some dogs, so I can’t go to help him, and it’s Niall’s rest day”.

“It was my rest day as well,” Harry says, but he’s already getting up from the bed and walking to get some warm clothes from his drawer.

“Harry, please,” Liam says, pout clear in his voice.

“Don’t worry,” he mumbles as he puts on a pair of jeans. “I’ll be there in less than thirty minutes if the train is on schedule, okay? Keep an eye on the dog and let me know if someone picks him up,” he instructs, walking to the bathroom to splash some water on his face and brush his teeth.

“Will do,” Liam promises. “Thanks, Haz, the poor dog looks really sad”.

Harry’s heart aches for the dog. He’s always had a soft spot for animals, especially dogs, and he’s sure Liam knows that, which is probably why he’s calling him instead of Niall.

It’s not like it bothers Harry, he’s used to waking up early anyway, and he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving the dog to freeze in the rain when he’s comfortable in his house, especially when he could keep him dry and warm inside his store as they wait for the owner to appear.

 _If the owner appears_ , says a voice in Harry’s mind and he prays for it to be wrong. He hopes the owner appears; he can’t imagine how someone could purposely abandon their pet, especially with this weather.

He doesn’t even bother with breakfast, instead he puts his hair into a bun and rushes out of the house into the subway.

Fortunately, the train is on schedule ( _hallelujah!_ ) and he’s running down the street to his store less thirty minutes later. The rain has simmered down by the time he spots the big black dog pacing outside the bookstore, but he still looks sad and drenched.

Harry thinks he can actually hear the poor dog crying as he approaches.

“Hey, buddy,” Harry says in a soft voice, trying not to startle the dog as he walks to him with his hands held up in front of him.

The dog recoils and walks backwards, away from Harry.

“It’s okay,” Harry tells him, lowering down as he puts a knee on the ground. “I just want to help you,” he whispers, stretching one of his hands to allow the dog to sniff it.

The dog walks hesitantly to Harry, sniffing his palm. The wet nose against his skin tickles Harry, releasing an unintentional giggle. When the dog his finally satisfied and licks Harry’s fingers, he takes it as a sign to get closer to him.

It is then that it hits Harry. The dog looks familiar somehow, even though none of his close friends own a pet. He narrows his eyes as he strokes the dog’s wet hair gently. _It’s the pretty man’s dog!_ Harry realizes.

He frowns; the guy didn’t look like the type of person who would abandon his dog, but you never know these days. Maybe the dog had simply gotten lost, disorientated in the middle of London’s street. Or, maybe he’d gotten a new dog and kicked this one to the street.

“Let’s get you inside, yeah?” Harry tells the dog, holding him by the collar and guiding him to his shop’s door. He fumbles with the keys, his hands wet from the rain and the dog’s hair, until he finally manages to open it.

Once inside, Harry turns on the lights and a small heater he has tucked in a corner.

He grabs an old t-shirt from behind the counter and uses as a towel, as he starts to dry the dog’s fur with it.

“Do you have a name, lad?” Harry wonders out loud, before noticing there’s something scribbled in the plaque hanging from the collar. He turns it in the hope that there’s information about the owner, but it only says _Clifford_ written in capital letters. “You’re Clifford,” Harry repeats, watching as the dog beams in recognition, wagging his tail.

Harry smiles, continuing his task to warm up Clifford in silence.

“We’re going to wait until your owner comes, okay?” He tells him, patting him on the back as he stands up.

Harry walks towards the door and pulls up the _open_ sign on the window. If he’s going to be at the store on his free day, at least he’ll try to make it somewhat profitable. He goes to sit in the reading nook he implemented in the corner of the store, right next to the heater, to kill sometime.

He grabs a book and watches as the dog comfortably lays by Harry’s feet, in front of the radiator, resting his head on Harry’s legs. Before starting to read, Harry decides to call Liam.

“Hey,” he says when his friend picks up. “I have Clifford inside with me,” he explains, laying back on the seat.

“Is that his name? Clifford?” Harry hums, confirming Liam’s words. “That’s cute, and unoriginal, but cute”.

Harry lets out a chuckle. “It is, although, to be honest, I don’t think I’ve seen it being used that much,” he muses.

“What are you going to do?” Liam asks.

“I’m going to wait and see if the owner comes by asking for him,” Harry explains. “I think I’ll take a picture of him and paste it on the window with a sign of _found dog_ or something”.

“That’s a good idea,” Liam says. “And if the owner doesn’t show up today?”

Harry sighs. “I’ll take him home with me and wait to see if someone calls from the sign or something. I don’t want to take him to a shelter or something,” he says, because it is the truth. His crappy apartment might not be most comfortable place to have a dog as big as Clifford, but it was big _enough_ , especially when his option was to abandon him. He couldn’t do that.

“Are you willing to do that?” Liam asks surprised. “You’ve never wanted a pet”.

“I’ve never had the desire to _buy_ a pet,” he clarifies. “And it’s not like I’m going to leave him alone again, least of all on this weather. And, I can afford to take care him for a while, I just hope his owner shows up because he must miss him”.

“The dog must miss his owner?”

“Yeah, he looks sad,” Harry tells him, looking at Clifford, laying at his feet. The dog is looking at the orange colour irradiating from the heater and Harry can see the sadness inn the dog’s eyes. “Poor baby,” Harry complains, “he must be so confused”.

“At least you have the means to help him, mate, not everyone can say that,” Liam says, and Harry knows he’s saying it with a pang of guilt. Liam wanted to help the dog, and he would’ve if it weren’t for his allergies. If Harry is going to keep Clifford for a while they need to check if Liam’s allergic to him or not. “I wish I could do more to help”.

“No, it’s okay, you called me and that’s enough, I’m glad you did,” Harry says honestly, in an attempt to reassure his friend. “Listen, I’m going to go now, I have to take the picture and print it to make a sign. And I guess I should pay attention to the people walking on the street, to see if one of them looks like they’re looking for Clifford”.

“Yeah, yeah, go,” Liam rushes him. “But really, mate, let me know if I can help you with something”.

“Will do,” Harry assures him and hangs up. He looks at Clifford again and gets up. “C’mon boy,” he says to the dog, “we have to make you look pretty for your sign”.

He pulls up the camera in his phone and kneels in front of Clifford, snapping his fingers to make the dog look up at him.

After taking about fifty pictures Harry finally decides on one for the sign. It doesn’t matter, he’s going to keep the other forty-nine anyway: Clifford is cute like that.

Harry transfers the picture from his phone to his laptop, quickly adjusting it into a white background to have space to write on. He prints it, checking the quality of the photo before grabbing a black marker and writing down _“found dog!”_ and his number as a contact information.

He walks to the window and carefully hangs it, making sure it’s secure enough to stay there.

“Now,” Harry says, turning to look at Clifford and giving him a big smile. “We wait”.

The rest of the day passes slowly, the tranquillity making Harry’s insides twist in anticipation every time someone walks in front of the store, only to be followed by deep disappointment when no one comes in.

 _It’s okay, maybe in the next hour_ , he tells himself every time it happens, trying to keep a positive mindset.

By the time the evening rolls around Clifford has started to whimper softly in Harry’s lap, making the man’s heart hurt for him. He’s also boiling with anger; Harry doesn’t understand how someone can be cruel enough to leave their dog like that, he’s sure if he had a pet and it gets lost, he’d be driving himself crazy trying to find them.

When the clock hits nine, Harry stands up reluctantly. He really doesn’t want to go yet, he wants to wait and see if someone comes, but it’s already so late and he needs to get on the train home now if he wants to be able to find a store open where he can buy some emergency dog food. Maybe he’ll even buy Clifford a toy, seeing as he has behaved so good all day, and Harry just can’t stand the sad look on his face without wanting to cry himself.

“Hey, boy,” Harry calls, trying to get Clifford’s attention. “We have to go now, I’m sorry,” he tells him as he walks to grab his keys and check he isn’t leaving anything behind. “I’ll get you a nice present though, okay? Just for you,” he smiles at the dog, talking to him in a soft voice, like the one he’d use with a baby.

He holds onto Clifford’s collar to keep him by his side as they make their way through the city. He sneaks past the guards as they get into the subway, awkwardly looking out the window to avoid the stares the strangers around him are giving him, probably bothered by Clifford, who smells like, well, _wet dog_.

He and Clifford get down on his station quickly, ignoring the daggers that are being sent to him as they jog up the stairs to get on the street. Harry quickly spots a place where to buy dog food, and he comes out five minutes later holding a large bag of it in his arms and a small toy grabbed firmly on his hand.

When Clifford sees him coming out of the store his tail stays still.

⤜ L ⤛

“C’mon, let’s start again from the bridge,” his producer says, making everyone in the room –including Louis– grunt in frustration.

They’ve been going at it for hours, trying to get songs out of Louis’ brain at whatever the cost. It hasn’t been working out too well, if he’s honest; they have written two songs so far, and he can’t decide which one is worse. The lyrics are boring and superficial, the rhythm too simple and not catchy at all.

“How about we accept nothing good is gonna come up at this time and head home?” Louis says, his voice filled with fake enthusiasm. The members of his band cheer in excitement at Louis’ words, they are clearly as tired as he is, maybe even more so.

It’s been a hard day, harder than Louis had originally imagined when he left his house that very same morning, and he’s fucking tired. As soon as he set a foot inside the studio, he had to listen through almost _an hour_ - _long_ chat about how his delay to come up with new lyrics has messed up with the label’s release calendar.

Louis understands their anger, he really does; his label has been amazing with him from the beginning, and he always considers himself lucky when other artist tell their stories about having no control over their music or their lives; his label accepted from the beginning he was going to make the music he loves, and he was not going to hide from anyone for being the way he is, especially not when his lyrics are explicitly stating his sexuality.

His fans were supportive from the beginning as well, always making him feel loved and accepted, being happy for him in the very few public relationships he’s had, and, even though most of his ex-boyfriends turned out to be assholes who only wanted him for his money or connections, Louis appreciated his fans’ intentions nonetheless.

So, yeah, he understands his label’s anger with him for not being able to come up with a single good song in the past two months when he set the deadline himself as he was finishing his last tour. The thing is, Louis never thought he’d have his first writer’s block _ever_ in the middle of the writing process for his fifth album.

“Fine,” his producer sighs, probably too tired to put up a fight. “But,” he starts again as soon as he notices everyone rushing to leave, “I think we need to schedule another session, _soon_ ”.

“It’s fine boys,” Louis tells his band. “I’ll stay to coordinate it and I’ll send you the details by mail,” he says, earning him grateful smiles from the group.

They leave the room in silence, and Louis uses those seconds to take a picture of the empty studio. He opens his Instagram and posts the picture without any filters on it, captioning it ‘ _it’s cooking_ ’, even though if his album was actually comparable to cooking it would pretty much be raw.

“Louis?” his producer’s voice makes Louis’ head turn to look at him. “Are you okay, mate?”

Louis frowns and shakes his head stunned. “Yeah, why you ask?”

“It’s just–, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this,” he explains, leaning back on the mixing panel.

“Like what?” Louis asks on a whim.

“Like this,” he repeats, looking thoughtful, “like, so out of energy, so out of inspiration”.

“I know,” Louis whispers, his shoulders sagging in defeat.

“I don’t think you do, Louis,” his producer says. “I think you’re forcing yourself so much to get to the end, to get to the next single, the next album, and you’ve forgotten to enjoy the process,” he continues, meeting Louis’ eyes as he speaks again. “Maybe you don’t remember when we first met, but I do. It was so long ago, you walked through those very same doors behind you to start working on your first album. You were so refreshing for everyone in here, like, you were so full of ideas, so excited to know everything there was to know about the process of creating music, about trying different techniques to come up with new sounds. It was as if you were discovering the world for the first time. And it was just like that for your next three albums after that one”.

“And now?” Louis asks, his voice sounds weak even to his own ears, almost afraid of the answer.

“Now it’s like you can’t wait to get this _over with_ , like, you want to see the resulting album just because you have to, and not because you want to,” he sighs. “It’s like you want to go straight from A to C, but you have to remember that, in order to do that, you need to go through B”.

Louis hums, pondering the words. He’s not wrong, Louis _does_ feel like he’s doing this without putting effort into it, but the problem is that he doesn’t know how to get out of that mindset. He doesn’t know how to _want_ to write again, to stop feeling like it’s an obligation instead of his passion.

“Thanks, mate,” he says, moving to grab the stuff he brought with him. “I really am trying,” and he doesn’t know if he’s trying to reassure his producer or himself.

“I know,” his producer says, walking towards the door. “I know you didn’t ask for my advice, but maybe you should stop trying so hard and just, allow yourself to be a kid again. You know, if you’re stuck, think like a kid would, and your perspective on things can change,” with that he walks out, leaving Louis alone in the room.

The singer takes a few minutes to himself, observing the instruments scattered around, before exiting the room as well.

What if this isn’t what he’s meant to do anymore? What if he already gave everything there was to give? Louis has never imagined himself doing anything else other than music, he loves performing, but writing has always been _his_ thing, the one he’s always felt confident and good at. Not being able to write feels like there’s something he’s missing, a piece of himself he’s losing.

 _Think like a kid_. If only Louis knew how to do that.

He gets on his car, tears gathering in his eyes. He feels so _lost_. Taking a few deep breaths, Louis turns on the engine and leaves the parking lot. He just wants to get home, put on a crappy movie, and cuddle with Clifford. 

⤜ H ⤛

“Home sweet home,” Harry says, looking at Clifford as they enter his apartment.

It’s a small but comfortable place, the kitchen and living room are connected forming an open floor plan that allows him to watch TV at the same time he cooks. It’s welcoming for when he has people over, and it keeps his personal space separated, as the master bedroom and bathroom are down the hallway.

The dog walks behind him towards the small living room. Harry puts the bags he’s holding on top of the island, rummaging through his cabinets for a plastic plate he can use to put Clifford’s food on, also grabbing a plate to put water on.

“Hey, Clifford,” he calls to the dog who’s been standing sniffing his couch and rug. “C’mon, I’ve got food for you,” he shows him the plate to emphasize his words.

Clifford wags his tail at the sight of his food. Harry puts it on the ground when the dog appears in the kitchen, eagerly digging his snout into the plate.

Harry smiles and pats his back, happy that the dog seems to have relaxed at least a little bit.

He walks to his room to change out of his somewhat wet clothes; the rain wasn’t strong enough to get them soaked, but the thin layer of raindrops was making him shiver. Harry hops in the shower quickly, allowing his body to get warm and loose with hot water.

When he’s done, he decides to put on his pyjamas and have an early night; having been alert all day has made him tired and he just wants to get into bed and sleep.

Harry walks back into the living room only to find Clifford crying softly at the door, his paws scratching the surface as he looks back at Harry. It breaks his heart.

“Hey,” Harry says walking to him, his voice soft. “I’m going to take care of you and help you find your owner, but now it’s late and we need to wait until tomorrow, okay?” he continues, guiding the dog with him to the sofa. He knows Clifford doesn’t understand him, but he hopes the soft tone of his voice helps to calm him down.

He sits on the couch and puts on a random movie, as he pats on the empty spot next to him in a command for Clifford to jump on the couch.

The dog leaps onto Harry’s sofa, resting his head on the man’s legs. A soft whimper leaves Clifford, and Harry just caresses his back until he eventually falls asleep.

⤜ L ⤛

Louis knows something is wrong the minute he enters his house.

Usually there’s a big black furry shadow waiting for him as soon as he puts the key on his door. He’d hear the light scratches on the wooden floor, as Clifford turns on himself with excitement.

Today his house is completely silent, not a trace of Clifford around.

Frowning, Louis steps loudly through the hallway towards the main living room, hoping that maybe his dog is just asleep on the couch, but as he enters the room there’s no trace of his pet around.

 _Maybe he got locked out in the garden again_ , Louis thinks, remembering the time last autumn when Clifford had been playing in the backyard and the wind got so strong it closed the French doors, locking him out. It had been hours until Louis realized Clifford had been outside because he didn’t have a way to get in rather than because he wanted to. He’d given him an extra bone that day.

Louis walks to his yard, but it’s met with silence once again.

He starts to get a bit more frantic, walking through each room of his house –which are a lot–, opening every door trying to find him, but there’s not a sign of his dog. He has quickly covered all the first floor, making him take the stairs two steps at a time in order to get to the second floor faster. He gets to the “family living room” panting, his breathing irregular from running around, but he doesn’t care, already on his way to check all the rooms in this level as well.

“Clifford? Come here boy,” he calls every time he opens a door, his voice getting louder and sounding more panicked as he goes through the different rooms.

His hands are shaking by the time he reaches his room. It’s empty. Louis feels tears prickling in his eyes.

He extracts his phone front the front pocket of his jeans and calls the first number on speed dial.

“Hey, Lou, what’s up?” Zayn answers cheerfully.

“Z,” Louis says, his voice sounds tight and wobbly. “Z, Cliff isn’t here, he isn’t at the house, I’ve looked everywhere, and he isn’t here, and I don’t know what to do, I–, God, Z what do I do?” he chokes, a lonely tear slipping from his eye.

“Shit, wait, I’m not understanding you, Clifford is lost?”

“That’s what I’m telling you!” Louis shrieks. “I’ve looked everywhere and he–, I can’t–”.

“Lou, listen to me,” Zayn says, trying to calm Louis down. “I’m driving to yours, okay? We’re going to look all night for him if it’s necessary, Lou, I promise”.

“We have to find him, Z,” he rambles desperately. “He’s spoiled, he’s like a baby, he wouldn’t know how to get the stuff he needs in the streets, and it’s fucking October, and it’s raining, fuck–, he’s going to freeze”.

“Babe take a deep breath, c’mon repeat after me,” Louis listens as Zayn takes a deep breath and then slowly exhales. Louis repeats the action a couple of times trying to even out his breathing. “Good, keep doing that, okay? I’ll be there in fifteen minutes top”.

“Okay, please hurry,” he pleads, before hanging up and putting his phone down.

Louis is already in warm clothes and ready to leave when he sees Zayn’s car pulling up in front of his house. He jogs towards his house’s entrance, barely giving his best friend any time to get out of the car before he’s hurling himself into his arms, pulling him into a hug. 

“It’s all right, Lou,” Zayn whispers into his ear, pocketing his car’s keys with one hand, as he strokes Louis’ hair with the other. “It’s going to be okay, we’re going to find him, okay?”

Louis nods, his throat feeling too tight to emit a sound.

“C’mon, let’s get to work,” Zayn says, pulling apart from the hug and guiding Louis down the street.

They decide to start by asking his neighbours if anyone saw something during the day. That would also give them a clue as to how far Clifford could be by now, depending on how much time it’s been since he left.

The people from the first two houses they ask in tell them that they haven’t seen anything, making Louis’ shoulders sink. It’s the people from the third house down the road that give them some information: according to them, Clifford left the house that morning, only a few minutes after Louis left to go to the studio, the front door had been left slightly open, making it easy for Clifford to slip through the gap; they saw his dog running down the street, chasing his car until they both disappeared from view, but they haven’t seen him since.

“It’s okay,” Zayn tells him as they walk down the street again. “We’ll keep looking, Lou, don’t worry”.

Hours later, Louis positively crumbles on top of his couch, finally allowing the tears that have been gathering in his eyes to slide down his cheeks.

His body breaks into sobs as he grips Zayn’s shirt in a tight hold, his hands in fists. He feels cold and wet, but he couldn’t care less. After they talked to the family who told them what happened, they hadn’t been able to find someone who’d seen Clifford as well. They walked for almost an hour asking around and looking at the corners in every alleyway, but there was nothing they could do, especially not in the middle of the night with a drizzle starting to fall again.

Zayn had finally convinced Louis to go back to his house about an hour later, with the promise of continuing their search tomorrow.

“I have an interview tomorrow,” Louis mumbles into Zayn’s chest. He doesn’t have the energy to look up.

“I’ll keep looking while you’re at it, Lou,” Zayn promises, his hand gently stroking Louis’ hair.

“We have to find him,” he repeats for the hundredth time, his voice weak, already drifting off.

“I know, we will”.

Louis doesn’t answer, he doesn’t need to. He knows Zayn means it; they’ll do everything they can to find Clifford. With a promise of _tomorrow_ Louis finally falls asleep.

⤜ H ⤛

Harry gets woken up by the feeling of something wet against his hand. He frowns, finding the feeling a bit weird as it comes and goes at an irregular pace.

Then it comes back to him in a rush: Liam calling him the previous morning, him taking Clifford out of the rain and staying all day waiting for the owner to show up, and finally coming home with the dog.

“Hey,” Harry turns to the dog, who’s watching him excitedly. “C’mon up here, boy”.

Harry pats the empty spot of his bed, but Clifford only stares at him for a few more seconds, before walking out of the room. Seconds later he hears the dog barking loudly.

“Oh, God,” he moans, rubbing his eyes as he stands up, walking to the hallway in nothing but his briefs. He finds Clifford by the door, looking back at Harry expectantly. “What?” he furrows his eyebrows as the dog lets out another loud bark and scratches the door. “Oh! You want to go out?”

Clifford barks again, sitting in front of the door and putting one of his paws on Harry’s stomach. Harry beams at how well behaved the dog is, walking to the kitchen to grab a package of biscuits.

He decides to take Clifford to the store again, hoping the owner will show up today. He rushes through his flat, eating the biscuits as his breakfast at the same time he puts on some clothes. They’ll have to sneak their way into the subway again, but at least Clifford is looking and smelling better today, so Harry thinks it shouldn’t be too hard.

“Okay, boy,” Harry says, walking to Clifford once he’s ready to leave. “Let’s go”.

They walk slowly to the subway, Harry taking his time to admire everything around him. Harry likes everything about fall, he likes the food, the colours and the clothes you can wear, never being too cold or too hot to go out and have fun. He loves how this time of the year feels like life is starting all over again, where there’s a hidden melancholy from the summer saying goodbye, but also a thrilling emotion waiting to be expressed when the holidays come around. It’s the perfect harmony in life.

Harry and Clifford arrive at the store a few minutes later than he normally would by himself, but he doesn’t mind it. Usually he doesn’t have that many costumers this early, anyway.

He goes through his “opening the store” routine slowly, the only difference with other days is that today he has Clifford trailing behind him, and he sets up a small place next to the heater for the dog’s food and water.

“Hello, my dear Harold,” an Irish voice calls behind him. “A little bird told me you got yourself a pet”.

Harry turns around with a smile. “Hey, Niall,” he says, walking to give a quick hug to his friend. “A little bird called Liam, I imagine. But, no. He was lost outside the store yesterday and I’m still hoping for the owner to appear. His name is Clifford”.

The dog looks up at the sound of his name, but he rests his head against the floor again when he sees that no one is moving.

“He’s cute,” Niall says. “I imagine you haven’t had any news about the owner?”

“Nope,” Harry denies. “But I still have hope, I mean, I hope he comes because even if Clifford is super cute and all, he’s been sad, like, he cried all afternoon and he barely ate any of the food I bought him,” he laments, looking at the dog sadly.

“Maybe he’s posh like everyone in this neighbourhood and he didn’t want to eat your cheap food,” Niall says, making Harry let out a laugh.

“Excuse me, I actually didn’t buy the cheapest food, okay?” Harry fakes offense, the smile on his face giving him away.

“Sure, you didn’t,” Niall rolls his eyes. “Hey, listen, Li and I were planning on going out later, not to a pub or anything, like, just buy some beer and go sit at a park. You know, to enjoy the one day without rain”.

Harry’s smile immediately falters. “I want to, but Clifford is sad, and I feel like I have to take care of him”.

“Take him with you, c’mon you know we love dogs, and Liam will never know if he’s allergic unless he’s close to him, right? And if he starts sneezing or something, we call it off and go home,” Niall says. “And, being on a park will probably make the dog feel good, I mean, he can run and play and do all that doggy stuff”.

Harry snorts, but he feels himself starting to get convinced.

“Just make sure it’s okay with Liam,” he says, looking as smile starts to tug on Niall’s lips. “If Liam doesn’t have a problem then sure, I’d love to go”.

⤜ L ⤛

“TOMMO! It’s been ages, mate, how are you?” Nick Grimshaw says, pulling Louis in for a hug.

“Hey, Grimmy,” Louis mumbles into the radio host’s shoulder. They’ve known each other for _years_ and even if they aren’t the closest friends in the world, they do keep in touch regularly, even going out to eat from time to time. Louis feels grateful for the role Nick has had in his life, especially during his first year in the industry, where he’d felt lost and confused in the midst of all the luxury and superficial relationships, he had suddenly found himself in. Nick had been the one to guide him through all of it, and Louis was glad to have someone who understood what it was like to be an outed gay man in the industry.

“Uh oh,” Nick says, taking a step back to look at Louis. “I know that voice, it’s your ‘ _I’m sad and I’m not trying to hide it’_ voice,” he continues. “What happened?”

“Cliff is lost,” Louis whispers. It’s the first time he has said those words out loud, it feels like a reality, it feels like a punch in his stomach.

“Oh, shit,” Nick says, wrapping his arms around Louis again and pulling him to his chest. “I’m so sorry, Louis, when did it happen?”

“Just last night, or, well, the neighbours said he ran after me in the morning but of course I only knew when I got home late at night,” he says, and then, as an afterthought, he adds, “I was in the studio all day and I couldn’t even write one with song, Nick, it wasn’t even like I had to leave the house”.

“But he could still show up, right?” Nick says, trying to sound cheerful. Louis really appreciates him. “Wait! We could mention it in the interview! Your fans would spread the word and you’d have a better chance at finding him, right?”

Louis looks up, a he can almost _see_ the wheels working in Nick’s head. “That’s–,” he starts, trying to connect his thoughts, “that’s actually a great idea”.

“I know, I’m a genius,” Nick rolls his eyes playfully, as he guides Louis to the radio station table.

Louis sits on his side of the table. He puts on his headphones while watching Nick running around the room, giving instructions to the other people who work at his program and receiving a list of the songs he has to play during this segment.

According to his label and his management, he’s supposed to use this interview to hint at his new single, try to build up expectations for it. They probably never thought that Louis would still be without a single.

And Louis should be worried, he should be making something up to keep his fans engaged in his music and hype up the hypothetical album he still hasn’t written, but his mind a thousand kilometres away. He’s thinking about how many minutes he has to endure before going out to start looking for Clifford again. He’s thinking about how scared and sad his pup probably is, how lonely and confused he must feel.

“You ready, Lou?” Nick asks as he puts on his own headphones. “We’re going to start off with Clifford, yeah?”

Louis nods and gives him a thumbs-up, already nervous to speak up in case they’re already live. Nick clicks on something and raises one his hand, counting down from five with fingers, pointing at Louis when he gets to one.

“Good mooorning, Louis Tomlinson,” Nick says into the microphone, putting on an exaggerated sweet tone. Louis smiles despite the lump in his throat.

“Morning, mate,” Louis says, trying to sound enthusiastic.

“I know you aren’t feeling the best, so thank you so much for joining me today,” Nick says. _We’re going straight to the point then_ , Louis thinks.

“Thank you for having me,” he answers.

“You’re so lovely,” Nick says, giving him a smile for the cameras, but Louis has known him for too long to know the serious look in his eyes. _Here we go_. “Would you mind if we talk about what’s going on?”

“Uh no, that’s alright,” he says, following Nick’s lead. “I already told you, but since you threw it out there, I’m sure me fans would like to know now,” he jokes, giving Nick an easy smile.

“I’m sorry!” they both know he isn’t sorry at all.

“That’s all right,” Louis reassures him, and with an almost imperceptible nod from Nick, he continues, “I was about to cancel, actually. Clifford, me dog, got lost yesterday,” he explains, “I stayed up for hours with my best friend looking around my neighbourhood for him, until it became too dark for us to see anything. So, I apologize in advanced to my fans if I seem a bit down today, I guess? My mind is elsewhere, I’m sorry”.

“Don’t worry about it, Lou,” Nick tells him, his voice soft, real. “It’s understandable and I’m sorry we’re keeping you here”.

“Honestly, it’s a welcome distraction,” Louis says earnestly. “My mate is continuing to look while I’m here and then I’ll go back to it”.

“You know if there’s anything I can do just let me know, and I’m sure your fans think the same”.

“Yeah, thanks, Grimmy, to be honest I just want him back, I–,” he clears his throat, trying to conceal the tremble in his voice. “I miss him a lot so if anyone sees anything on social media or something like that just let me know”.

“We definitely will,” Nick says, nodding at Louis. “We’ll go to listen to one of your songs now but stay tuned for more of Louis Tomlinson coming after. This is _Alive_ from mister Louis Tomlinson, here on Radio 1”.

The red light indicating that they’re live turns off; they’re officially on a song break. Louis sighs in relief, the first segment is over, he can do this, less than one hour to go.

“That wasn’t as bad as you thought, wasn’t it?” Nick says, walking around the table to kneel beside Louis. The singer hums but doesn’t say anything. “Aw, c’mon babes, you know your fans, and more importantly, you know yourself. You _will_ find Clifford”.

“You really think so?” Louis asks in a whisper.

“I _know so_ , like, honestly Lou, I’ve known you for years, and I know there’s nothing you wouldn’t do for the ones you love. You will find Cliff, okay? I know it”.

God, Louis really hopes Nick is right.

⤜ H ⤛

Harry laughs as Clifford jumps in a leaf pile. The dog briefly disappears in the middle of all the leaves that are flying around him, before happily jumping out again.

“I’m not sure I want you to find the owner, Harold,” Niall says as they spread a blanket on top of the grass to sit on. “He’s super cute”.

“And I’m not allergic so I agree! Let’s keep him,” Liam chimes in happily. “I mean, you keep him, and we play with him”.

Harry barks out a laugh, sitting down crossed legged on the blanket.

“So, basically I should keep him in my small apartment, pay for everything and you just enjoy him,” Harry suggest sarcastically, still smiling.

“Yes! That’s great idea, I knew you were smart, Harold,” Niall says, clapping his hands as he sits in front of Harry.

They take out some food they’d bought on their way to the park, opening the bag of crisps so they can share. Liam offers him a can of beer which Harry gladly accepts.

“It feels just like the old days,” Liam comments, taking a sip of his own beer. “You know, like when we were in Uni worrying about finals”.

“Except now we worry about our bills,” Harry says, shrugging. He wishes things were as easy as they were five years ago, when they were only teenagers going out to parties every weekend instead of actual-meaningful-adult stuff.

“I’m glad it’s not like in those Uni days,” Niall says, reaching for the bag of chips to put it on his lap.

“What do you mean?” Liam frowns. “We had a good time”.

“Yeah, but I mean, now we get to have Harold’s undivided attention,” he explains. “If we were in Uni, he’d be leaving in five minutes to go to a date or something”.

“Hey!” Harry complains, pouting. Liam laughs.

“Oh my god, you’re right!” Liam chuckles and looks at Harry. “Do you remember that time you ditched one of your dates and then he saw us in a bar that very same night and took your drink and spilled it on you?”

“I didn’t ditch him!” Harry corrects, but he is laughing as well. “I just forgot we had a date that day!”

“As if that’s better,” Niall snorts. “Poor lad, he seemed proper angry”.

“Well, I’m glad it happened,” Harry shrugs. “It showed he had anger issues, so it would’ve never worked out between us,” he says, making both of his friends laugh. “Oh god, I don’t even remember his name,” he realizes.

“Wasn’t its name Nate or something like that?” Liam asks.

“No,” Harry shakes his head. “Nate was the guy I dated during our first year, this happened I believe in third year”.

“Oh, right,” Liam says, furrowing his brows. “You know, it’s weird to think about that, like, you dated so much during university and now…,” he trails off, before shrugging and drinking from his beer. “Mate, I don’t think I even remember who your last boyfriend was, I mean, it feels like forever since you last introduced someone to us”.

“Yeah, it’s been years,” Harry thinks back on the last boyfriend he had. “The last _official_ one was during our last year of Uni, so it’s been like _two-ish_ years?”

“Has it really been that long?” Niall’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Mhm,” Harry hums. “I don’t know, I feel like I wore myself out, like, I dated so much during university, and nothing ever worked out so I just… stopped looking I guess”.

There’s a silence after Harry’s words, the only noise around them comes from Clifford playing in the pile of leaves and cars driving on the street.

“You know how sometimes you look for something you’re sure you just saw, but the more you look for it the more lost it seems to be?” Niall says, Harry nods slowly to his words. “But then, you stop looking because you don’t need that thing anymore, and it suddenly appears almost out of thin air, and even if you don’t need it at the moment you’re glad you found it because now you know where it’ll be for the next time”.

“Yeah,” Harry says, waiting for his friend to continue.

“Maybe that’s what happened to you, like, you were actively looking for love or a relationship so that’s why it never worked out, because you were working _too_ hard for it,” Niall sips on his beer, turning his head to look at Clifford who is still playing.

“That was proper philosophy, mate,” Liam says with a grin on his face.

Harry laughs, “I don’t know, I think you’re right, Nialler,” he says, taking out his phone from his back pocket. “But I’m happy with where I am now, if I’m honest. I get to spend time with you, I have the store, and that’s enough”.

 _Except it isn’t enough,_ Harry thinks. _I want to be loved and cuddled and not to feel alone every time I come home_. He quickly pushes those thoughts away.

Clifford barks loudly, making him turn to his gaze towards him. He looks just in time to catch the dog who comes bouncing into his arms. Clifford licks his cheek, his tail wagging excitedly. Harry laughs, because, how can he not? The dog is really cute, and he feels happy that he isn’t as sad as he was last night or this morning. Even if the owner hasn’t showed up yet, Harry still has faith that he will, and until that he’d like to keep the dog as content as he can.

“Hey, Haz, give me your phone,” Niall says, although he’s already reaching for Harry’s phone which was resting on his lap. “I’ll take a picture”.

Niall holds the phone in front of him and Harry gives a genuine smile to the camera, Clifford still licking his face.

“That looks cute,” Liam says, leaning over Niall’s shoulder to look at the screen.

“There you go,” Niall hands his phone back at him.

Clifford gets distracted by a pigeon, and Harry laughs as the dogs starts to run towards it, barking loudly making it fly away again.

He swipes through the pictures Niall just took, quickly choosing a favourite one.

Harry thinks briefly about it, before coming to the decision to post it. It’s a cute picture, it’s him smiling brightly at the camera, the corner of his eyes crinkling and dimpled cheeks. He plays with the filters for a while before choosing to post it without any, quickly typing in _‘we got a new friend’_ as a caption.

He posts it and the likes start to come in a bit faster than usual. Harry decides not to think much about it, people always get crazy when they see a cute dog anyway.

He enjoys the rest of his afternoon with his friends without looking at his phone again.

By the time he and Clifford arrive at his apartment, they’re both so tired that Harry only drinks some water, puts his phone on its changer and throws himself on his bed without checking his notifications. He smiles when Clifford climbs into his bed beside him. He falls asleep easily after that.

⤜ L ⤛

Louis is making himself a sandwich when he gets the call.

He and Zayn had been looking for Clifford all day, but eventually settled on putting up posters with a picture of the dog on them. It had started getting late again and they were tired. Tomorrow was another day, _maybe tomorrow you’ll be lucky_ , he’d told himself.

That, because he wasn’t expecting Zayn to call him at eleven pm.

“Yeah?” He says as he takes a bite of his sandwich.

“Louis?! Put me on speaker and check twitter,” Zayn’s voice is frantic.

“What?” He says with his mouth full.

“Louis! Do it,” Zayn grumbles.

“Okay, okay,” Louis rolls his eyes, doing as told. He logs into twitter, and he doesn’t need to scroll at all to see _the picture_ , the one that’s repeated over and over again on his mentions. “What the–,”

“I know!” Zayn exclaims. “They _found_ him! They fucking–, they found Clifford, Lou! Your fans–”.

“Holy shit,” he exhales. “Holy shit, holy–. Oh my god, I’ll call you back, Z”.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry,” his friend assures him. “Let me know as soon as you know something, though”.

“Yeah, I will, bye, Z”.

“Bye, Lou”.

He lets Zayn hang up, too busy looking through his mentions. It’s a picture of a dude and Clifford, but Louis doesn’t even look at the guy’s face, his eyes focusing solely on his dog, who’s looking straight towards the camera. He would recognize his dog anywhere.

Louis doesn’t have to have to think twice before going to the guy’s twitter profile –which his fans have conveniently tagged for him–, clicking on the message button and typing out quickly.

_hi !! harry, is it?_

_i believe you have my dog clifford :) unless you stole it, in which case, fuck you, i want him back._

He reads back the message. It’s not his finest moment, nor the politest thing to say, but it’ll do. He clicks send. 


	2. found

⤜ H ⤛

“What the–,” Harry groans, feeling a sharp pain on his stomach. He opens his eyes groggily and finds the source of his discomfort staring at him. “Hey, boy,” he mumbles, stretching his hand to pet Clifford, whose head is resting on Harry’s tummy. “Listen, Cliff, you’re cute and all, but if you’re going to be staying here you need to follow the rules, and that includes not jumping on me as a wakeup call,” he says, holding the dog’s head between his hands.

Harry reaches for his phone, frowning at the unusual amount of notifications waiting for him.

He scrolls through his notification centre, without really getting an idea about what’s happening, most of them tagging other people under his recent Instagram post or mentioning him in tweets. _Why on earth are people mentioning him on tweets?_ He literally hasn’t been on twitter in months.

He goes onto twitter first, realizing that the person they keep mentioning him with is _Louis Tomlinson_. Harry frowns, the name rings a bell in his mind, but he can’t remember where from. Thankfully, there’s a message from this _Louis_ on his inbox.

_hi !! harry, is it?_

_i believe you have my dog clifford :) unless you stole it, in which case, fuck you, i want him back._

“Oh my god,” Harry sits up, reading the message again. His eyes scan over the words, a small smile forming in his lips at the change of tone at the end. “Your owner is a bit of a prick, Cliff,” he says to the dog, grin still on his face.

He understands, of course he does. By the amount of people mentioning him and Louis on twitter and Instagram the guy is probably some sort of celebrity – _probably should’ve guessed by how good he looked just walking on a park_ , he thinks–, so it’s only logical for him to be a bit defensive. He probably thinks Harry is some sort of crazy fan who stole his dog just to meet him.

Harry laughs at the thought. He motions for Clifford to lay his head on his lap again.

 **Hello** , he types as he bites his bottom lip nervously. **I guess i have your dog**.

He sends it and starts typing again immediately.

 **I didn’t steal him,** he adds an angry face emoji next to the words, **he was outside my store yesterday looking sad and lost, i even put up fliers about it because i wanted him to find his owner :(**

Harry makes sure his phone is not on silent and puts it on his nightstand again. Clifford is lazily dozing off on his lap, so Harry carefully lifts his head and lowers him on the pillow, in order to get out of his bed without waking the dog up.

He takes a shower rapidly, his stomach growling with hunger. Once he’s done, he decides to put on some worn out jeans and a hoodie; he’s not planning to go out today, but he’d rather be prepared in case Clifford demands to go for a walk like yesterday.

The thought of Clifford makes Harry run to grab his phone again, a lump of disappointment settling in his chest when he notices he hasn’t gotten a response from Louis.

Curiosity taking the best of him, Harry goes onto Instagram, his fingers easily typing _Louis Tomlinson_ on the search bar. He scrolls down, looking at the pictures, clicking in every other one to admire the man in his screen. _He’s gorgeous_ , Harry inevitably thinks, as he continues to scroll for longer than he’d like to admit.

One of Louis’ latest post is of a recording studio, only his feet being visible in the frame. With his interest growing, Harry clicks on the link on Louis’ biography, which directs him to the man’s profile in Spotify. Harry feels his eyes widening as he notices the number of monthly listeners he has; he clicks on the first recommended song while walking to the kitchen to make himself breakfast.

Harry starts making scrambled eggs, as Louis’ voice fills his kitchen, a song about wanting to be free and young, about never looking back because he’s ready to run. It makes Harry smile, thinking about how talented he has to be to create lyrics this beautiful with the same words everybody uses daily, but making them sound and feel special. It’s almost like reading poetry or a novel, but with music, the words acquiring a different meaning than its ordinary use.

“Fuck–,” Harry jumps at the startling sound of his phone receiving a message. He sets the frying pan away from the fire, turning it off, before reaching for his phone. Louis’ voice is still coming through the speakers, this time singing about being a normal guy, getting sad and needing someone to talk to.

It’s a text from Louis.

_hi harry ! yeah sorry about the messages, reading them back i was a total prick_

_thank you for taking care of my dog honestly!! i’ve been going mad trying to find him but not knowing where he could’ve run off to wasn’t helping_

Harry nods to himself, feeling pity and sadness towards Louis. Another message comes through before he can reply.

 _And thank you for putting up flyers i appreciate the effort_.

Harry smiles, a warmth feeling expanding in his chest.

 **hi,** he types back. **It’s okay! i’m sorry you had to go through that :( but he’s safe and sound**.

And idea pops into Harry’s head. He makes his way back to his bedroom, tiptoeing when he’s closes to the door to see if Clifford is still sleeping in his bed.

Harry takes a picture of the sleeping dog and sends it.

**A bit of a sleepy head he is**

_Yeah, he definitely gets it from me haha!_ Louis’ response comes in a matter of seconds. _So, when do you think we could meet?_

Harry bites the inside of his cheek nervously. **Huh, i’m free today if you don’t have something to do…**

Louis’ typing bubble appears and disappears a couple of times before the message shows up.

_Yeah that’s perfect! Would you mind coming close to my place? Sorry to bother but i just think it might be better in order to avoid getting spotted or mobbed._

Harry frowns as he reads the message again, not really getting the meaning behind the words. Louis must take his silence with disagreement.

_Or i could go to yours to pick him up that’s fine too !! i’m sorry I don’t want to trouble you more than what you have already done_

Another song starts playing, the beat fast and catchy and _oh_ , it hits Harry like a brick. It’s not surprising that Louis would rather them meeting close to his house, because, if Harry’s guesses are correct, he must live close to his bookstore, where there are barely young people around.

He’s never been one to keep track of celebrities now days and his knowledge in music is shamefully lacking a lot of variety, usually settling with the same old playlist he’s had for years, never bothering to add new music to it. Harry can’t imagine what it’s like for someone as famous as Louis, having to live constantly looking around, checking to see if someone is watching you or sneaking a picture of you.

Harry starts typing hurriedly, **no, that’s okay, I can get close to yours!** he sends back, before writing his bookstore’s address, **does that work for you? Around 11?** Harry checks the time, it’s barely 9 am, which would give him plenty of time to get to his store by 11.

Louis replies immediately, a thumbs up emoji along with a ‘ _see you there!_ ’, making Harry smile. 

He puts his phone down but doesn’t stop the music; Louis’ lyrics have something that make Harry want to keep listening in an attempt to decipher the meaning behind every word.

Once he finishes his breakfast, Harry opens a notebook he keeps on top of his fridge where he keeps track of his expenditures; he sighs when he sees the numbers adding up incorrectly; he’ll have to use last month’s savings to pay for this month’s bills, an unfortunate thing that lately has started to become a habit for Harry. It always makes him sad to see how he can’t make projects for the long run; he is grateful for what he has, of course, he can cover all of his bills when so many others can’t, but he also wants to have plans, he wants to be able to go out without counting every pound he spends, and unfortunately, the income his bookstore provides is not enough for that.

Harry juggles with his bills for a while, trying to see if there’s anything he can’t cut back on in order to have a saving margin. He surrenders after ten minutes, putting his notebook on top his fridge once again.

He goes to his room slowly, dragging his feet on the wooden floor. Clifford is still sleeping on his bed, and Harry smiles at the dog, he’ll miss him. It felt nice to have company again, even his small apartment felt too big for him, especially now when the nights are getting lonelier and colder as the fall starts to settle in London.

Harry walks to look at the mirror hanging behind his door, taking in the sight in front of him. He’s wearing black skinny jeans and a hoodie, his long hair falling over his shoulders. He decides to change his top, putting on a lilac sweater and a large brown jacket that almost reaches his knees. Once he’s satisfied with the way he looks he walks towards his bed.

“Hey, boy,” Harry murmurs as ruffles Clifford’s hair to wake him up. “We’re going out,” the dog looks up at the word _out_ , leaping towards the door. Harry chuckles as he puts on his favourite rings, he exhales a shuddered breath.

“Get a grip,” he tells himself. “He’s a normal person and you’re only giving him his dog back; you’re never going to see him again”.

Harry slides on his last ring before walking out of his room again, this time going straight to his front door. Clifford is already waiting for him there, silently pressuring Harry to hurry. He looks around the living room one last time, making sure there’s nothing he’s forgetting.

Clifford barks loudly as looks at Harry just standing there, the sound echoing in his apartment.

“All right, all right,” he says, putting his phone in his back pocket and patting to feel his keys and wallet on his jacket. “C’mon, let’s go”.

Harry opens the door, Clifford hurrying to the lift; Harry feels a small pain in his chest when he thinks that this is the last moment he’ll have with this adorable dog.

The way to his bookstore is slower than it’d usually be; Harry takes his sweet time walking with Clifford, even stopping to buy the dog a mini treat. They have time and these are the last moments he’ll have with company anyway.

The air is crisp and cold; Harry needs to pull his jacket a bit tighter around his shoulder, in an attempt to keep his body warm when he feels a breeze on the back of his head, sending chills down his spine. Maybe he’ll have to get himself a coffee after meeting with Louis.

When they turn around the corner of his bookstore’s street Harry immediately notices the man standing outside his shop, looking around nervously, a hood covering most of his face. Clifford seems to spot him at the same time as him.

Harry smiles as Clifford barks loudly, making the man –Louis– turn to them. His face breaks into the brightest smile, his eyes shining with so much happiness it makes Harry still in his place. _Bright as the sun_ , his mind puts the words together as he gapes at the man in awe.

Clifford starts to run towards his owner, Louis following suit, meeting him in the middle of the street. The singer falls on his knees, hugging the black dog tight in his arms.

“Cliff, oh god,” Harry hears Louis talking and _oh wow_ , his voice is raspy and high pitched, the combination sounding even more melodic than Harry had imagined. “I missed you so much, baby,” he continues, “you almost gave me a heart attack when I came home, and you weren’t there”.

Harry puts his hands in the pockets of his jacket, looking around self-consciously.

He has clearly tried to conceal himself, Harry notices as he takes in the man in front of him; Louis is wearing an oversized black hoodie, a little hand-drawn looking flower embroidered on its left side, and black adidas joggers, which have the typical white vertical line on the sides. The hood has fallen from Louis’ head, his brown, soft, puffy-looking hair coming to view, making Harry’s fingers prickle with the urge to reach out and tangle themselves on the loose strands that fall into a fringe.

“Now, now, Cliff,” Louis says, standing up as he pats on the dog’s head to keep him seated by his side. He’s a bit shorter than Harry, his forehead reaching right in front of Harry’s lips, and he _does not_ want to think of that. The singer lifts his gaze to meet Harry’s eyes and he’s never seen anything as _blue_. “I think I should meet the person who’s been taking care of you”.

“Hi,” Harry says, his voice cracks when he speaks, making him cringe. “I’m Harry”.

“Yeah,” Louis whispers, his eyes locked with Harry’s, his gaze so intense it makes the green-eyed man shiver. Louis must notice this, shaking his head to bring himself out of his stupor as he extends his hand, which Harry gladly shakes. “Sorry, I’m Louis,” he says, “I hope he wasn’t much trouble”.

They both look down at Clifford, who’s still sitting peacefully next to Louis.

“Not at all,” Harry says, letting go of Louis’ hand. “You’ve trained him well, you know? He even went to wake me up,” he continues, smiling bashfully, lowering his eyes to look at the dog.

“Yeah, he tends to do that,” Louis huffs out a laugh, scratching the back of Clifford’s head. “Didn’t train him, though, he’s just spoilt and likes to have his food and his morning walk”.

“Well,” Harry says, grinning at Louis innocently. “You know dogs tend to copy their owner’s behaviours”.

Louis barks out a laugh, the sound coming out of his mouth loud and unexpected, it makes Harry’s insides feel warm. “Is that your way of saying I’m spoiled, Harry?” Louis says snickering. “Sorry to disappoint, love, but I’m a simple guy, cheap beers and all that”.

Harry ignores the way his stomach flutters at the word _love_ , he really does.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Harry continues. “Cliff was all about cheap treats but a _ton_ of them, he finished the package in, like, five minutes”.

“Shit, sorry,” Louis frowns, reaching for the side pocket of his joggers. “Let me pay you back,” he pulls out his wallet, fumbling to take a bill out. “I know he can be a bit too much in terms of expending”.

“No, no,” Harry rushes to say, his hands involuntarily raising to stop Louis’, his fingers curling around the other man’s wrist. “I meant it, it wasn’t trouble for me at all, he’s a really, _really_ great dog and I enjoyed the company for a change,” he rambles, his cheeks blushing when he notices Louis staring at their hands. He lets go of his hold as if it’s burning him.

“I still feel bad, though,” Louis says, “I know how he can be and–,”

“And he’s lovely, well behaved and good company,” Harry interrupts him, looking at Louis eyes hoping they reflect the sincerity in his voice. “Honestly, Louis, I mean it”.

Louis stares at him, and if Harry knew him better, he’d say the singer is trying to figure something out.

Clifford stands up and nuzzles his nose into Harry’s hand, wanting to get his attention. Harry smiles and crouches to be in front of the dog.

“Hey, Cliff,” he says, petting on the side of Clifford’s neck. “Keep being a good boy, yeah?” The dog barks, licking Harry’s hand.

Harry straightens his back, standing in front of Louis again. He follows the movement of Louis’ arms as he puts his wallet back in his pocket. _This is it_ , _isn’t it?_ Harry thinks when Louis extracts Clifford’s leash and hooks it on his collar, the action making Harry realize this is the moment where they part ways.

He desperately tries to come up with something to say, something to keep Louis interested enough to stay for a while and allow Harry to lose himself inside the sea of blue in Louis’ eyes.

“Do you–, I–,” Louis cuts himself off, letting out a frustrated sigh at his lack of ability to express his thoughts. “Thank you again,” he settles on saying, “I really can’t express how much it means that you brought me my dog back, Harry, thank you”.

“It’s okay,” Harry says. “I’m just happy he wasn’t lost or abandoned, and I’m happy I could help to bring him back to you”.

Louis smiles, the crinkles by his eyes begging for Harry to caress them.

Someone walks past them, eyes lingering on Louis; the shorter man flinches, taking a step back.

“I guess I should go,” Harry says trying to bring Louis back to a relaxed stance, although everything inside him screams against it, _please say no, please let me take you out, let me get to know you_. “I’m sure you have lots to do”.

“Hm,” Louis mumbles. “Yeah, I–, yeah, I guess you’re right,” he seems like he wants to say something else, but they don’t really know each other, and Harry doesn’t want to push him.

“Well, then,” Harry clears his throat and stretches out his hand, “it was great to meet you, Louis”.

“You too, Harry,” Louis says, taking his hand and shaking it gently. “C’mon Clifford”.

The singer gives Harry one last look, his blue eyes longing for something Harry can’t quite comprehend. Maybe it’s the same thing he’s feeling, this instinct that’s screaming at him to stay _here_ , to keep talking to Louis, to keep looking at him.

Louis turns around slowly, starting to walk down the sidewalk, probably on his way to his house.

Harry tries to make up his mind; should he go after Louis? Should he follow his gut and ask him out? Should he let it go? They’re strangers, but Harry can’t help the way his chest knots at the thought of never seeing the other man again. It feels different, it could be _more_. Harry’s mind rushes through different possibilities.

Louis seems to make up his mind in a split second.

“Hey,” he hears Louis’ voice calling.

Harry looks up as the singer turns around and walks down the street to where Harry is still standing, outside his bookstore.

“Do you–, huh,” Louis smiles shyly at Harry, running his fingers through his hair once he’s standing in front of him again. “Do you want to grab some coffee with me? My treat”.

Harry beams, his lips curving into a smile, dimples showing.

“Yeah,” he breathes out, “I’d like that a lot”.

⤜ L ⤛

Their shoulders brush as they walk, the proximity of their hands and the way the wind blows coldly around them make it harder for Louis to act _normal_ , his body trembling with anticipation and excitement.

It had taken him a second, but as soon as he started walking away from the green-eyed man he realized he was about to make a mistake.

Louis didn’t know what he was doing, asking Harry out when he has deadline to meet and enough bad dating experiences, but there was something _different_ about this man. Maybe it was the way he’d said goodbye to Clifford, as if he was actually going to miss him, or maybe it was the way his eyes sparkled when Louis suggested going out for a coffee, reflecting the emotions the singer was feeling inside him.

Harry is positively the prettiest man Louis has ever seen; a compliment Louis wouldn’t give away lightly considering the amount of objectively pretty people he surrounds himself with due to his career.

“Is this all right?” Harry asks, pointing at the coffee shop behind him.

Louis nods, ignoring the goose bumps he gets from Harry’s deep voice.

They walk through the white French doors of the coffee shop, Louis sighing in relief when he notices it’s completely empty, probably too early or too hidden for people to be there. There’s an old lady behind the counter and Louis motions towards Clifford, silently asking if it’s okay to bring him in; the woman’s eyes soften at the sight of his dog and nods eagerly.

“What are you going to get?” Louis asks as he turns to look at Harry. The green-eyed man is staring at the black board on the wall, reading the different types of coffees.

Louis smiles as he looks at Harry, mesmerized by the young man in front of him. Louis follows with his eyes the sharpness of Harry’s jaw, from corner of his eyes to the soft-looking curls falling swiftly over his shoulders, Louis stares as Harry digs his teeth into his bottom lip, scanning his _coffee options_ with a concentrated glare. The singer snickers softly, how on earth is this hipster man so endearing?

“A pumpkin spiced latte,” Harry finally says, moving his eyes from the board to Louis, a smile on his face, making his dimples pop.

“A pumpkin spiced latte,” Louis repeats, looking at the old lady who’s been waiting for them. “Make it two, please”.

“Oh, you like them too?” Harry asks cheerfully.

“Huh,” Louis takes out his credit card and pays for their drinks. “I’ve never tried one actually”.

“You haven’t? How?” the taller man looks at him in disbelief. “I mean, they’re so good, and it’s the season! You’ve never been curious?”

“I’m not great at trying new things if I’m honest, like, I used to be, but it gets boring after a while” he shrugs. “Sometimes you just crave for a routine”.

“But you’re coming out of your comfort zone now,” Harry says, smiling softly at him.

“Yeah,” Louis breathes out, staring at different shades of green in his eyes.

Someone behind them clears their throat; both men turn to look at the woman standing there, looking pointedly at the cash register. Louis blushes and steps out of the way; he motions at Harry to follow him to a table, fisting his hand to avoid placing it in the small curve in Harry’s back.

“Books,” Harry says as they take a sit.

“Hm?” Louis hums, shifting his attention –which had been on the woman preparing their drinks– towards the man in front of him.

Harry looks down, his cheeks blushing in a lovely pink colour as he tries to hide a smile. _He’s shy_ , Louis marvels, his heart beating faster as Harry slowly drags his eyes up to meet Louis’.

“Books are my routine,” Harry explains, his voice airy. He looks around them, his cheeks still tinted red before clearing his throat. “I see them and read them every day, they’re, like, an escape, but also a pleasure. No matter what happens during the day, I know there’s going to be at least one moment where I’ll be able to submerge myself in a story and ignore everything else. Even if the plot is different in every single one, I know I’ll experience the feeling only a book can provide”.

Louis stares in amazement at Harry, _how on earth has he met him only for less than an hour?_

“Sorry, I don’t think I made any sense,” Harry rushes to say, misinterpreting Louis’ silence.

“No, I–,” he starts, trying to find the words to express his thoughts. He used to be better at it, he used to be able to write songs about the most banal things and now he can’t even voice out a coherent phrase. “You did make sense,” he settles on saying, frowning before continuing on, “I had the same feeling when I was writing, you know? Being able to lose yourself into something so easily”.

“Had?” Harry asks, pursing his lips as his brows settle in a small frown. Louis wants to reach out and smoothen it out.

“Haven’t written in a while,” Louis says, waving his hand dismissively.

“But you’re writing is so good!” Harry blurts out, immediately cutting himself off, eyes widening. “I mean, I only heard some of your songs for the first time this morning, but they’re amazing, Louis, you’re really talented”.

Louis feels himself flushing, heat creeping from the back of his neck to his face. “Thank you,” he says, resting his cold hand against his cheek in an attempt to remove heat from them, “I–, it actually means a lot to me, I haven’t had the best time writing lately, so, it’s nice to hear I can still get new fans”.

“Who says I’m a fan? I just said you were a good writer,” Harry says playfully, his eyes shining mischievously.

“Well, you accepted to have coffee with me, innit?” he says, copying the teasing tone in Harry’s voice. “Must have something good in me to get you to come, _and_ like my music”.

“’M not the best critic, though,” Harry snorts, letting out a small chuckle. “My music library consists mainly on music from the sixties and seventies”.

“Really living up your hipster persona, I see,” Louis retorts, raising his eyebrows as he tries to stop a grin from spreading in his face.

“Heeeey,” Harry drags out, complaining feigningly. He shoots his feet forward under the table, attempting to kick Louis playfully, but before he can succeed Louis quickly opens his legs and tightens them, trapping Harry’s foot in between his shins. He smiles triumphally at Harry, who makes no effort to release himself from Louis’ hold, instead, the curly man looks straight into Louis’ eyes.

The woman bringing their coffees startles them, making Louis let go of Harry, hurriedly sitting straight to help the woman put everything on their table.

Louis shakes his head when the woman asks them if they need anything else, soon enough leaving them alone once again. Harry looks like a kid on Christmas morning as he stares at the coffee cup in front of him, quickly taking a scrunchie from his wrist, tying up his curls on a messy bun, and _fuck_ , Louis’ cock twitches in interest at the action, unable to keep the mental imagines away, picturing Harry doing the same as he kneels in front of him, reaching out to–

 _Stop_ , he scolds at himself, trying to remember that he’s just met Harry today.

Harry brings the cup to his lips, and Louis does his best to avoid the way Harry’s bobs as he swallows.

“This is really good, Louis, thank you,” Harry says as he uses a napkin to remove the foam from around his lips.

“You’re welcome, love,” Louis says without thinking, his eyes fixing on the red colour that takes over Harry’s cheeks. He reaches for his own cup, blowing at the liquid before taking a small sip, savouring the flavour. He frowns. “This is so bad, Harold”.

Harry looks distraught, staring at him as if he’d grown a second head. “What?! _Louiiiis_ ,” he whines, pouting, “it’s _delicious,_ and it’s holiday themed drink, you literally _can’t_ not like it”.

“Autumn is not a holiday, though,” Louis notes, amused at Harry’s reaction. _God,_ he wants to know how Harry reacts to every single thing.

Harry laughs, and Louis’ stomach does a weird flip at the sound. _God_ , he wants to hear it all day; he wants to bottle the sound and write songs about it, put it in the back of every single on of his songs.

“Says who?” Harry teases

“I don’t know, everyone?” Louis answers, wonder struck by the easiness and simplicity of everything, of them.

“We can make it one,” Harry says excitedly, his eyes glistening. “It’s all about the spirit, you know, like, enjoying the little things that come with the season, the leaves, the wind, the _colours_ –”.

“You’re so cute,” Louis cuts him off involuntarily, the words coming out his mouth before his brain can stop them. He knows he should be more careful, more guarded around new people, but he can’t be bothered when it comes to Harry, his heart asking for more and more.

“I–, huh, thank you,” Harry’s words coming out shakily.

Louis briefly wonders if Harry’s kids would flush as easily as he does. _God_ , he wants to know that, he wants to _have_ his babies. If it were biologically possible, that is. Since it’s not, Louis thinks he’d be happy with trying out the, huh, _mechanisms_.

 _What are you doing to me_ , he thinks as he stares at Harry, the man babbling on about how _outrageous_ it is that Louis didn’t like his drink.

“It just doesn’t taste good, Harold,” Louis says, rolling his eyes fondly at Harry.

“I can’t believe you, _Lewis_ ,” Harry sticks his tongue out, narrowing his eyes at Louis as if he weren’t trustworthy. “We’ll need to work on your taste”.

“Oh, my taste it’s plenty good,” Louis tells him, leaning over the table, placing his elbows on it, resting his head on his hands as he flutters his eyelashes at Harry innocently.

“Well, you did ask _me_ out,” Harry leans over as well, his face so close to Louis’ that he can feel the electricity prickling between them.

“That I did,” Louis whispers, his gaze shifting from Harry’s eyes to his lips.

Harry suddenly stretches out his hand, raising it slowly towards Louis. He inhales sharply, anticipation making his throat go dry. He feels the soft press of Harry’s fingers against his hair, gently pushing his fringe to the side, the touch lingering as it gets closer to the side of Louis’ face. Harry rests his hand on Louis’ cheek, and Louis needs to talk himself out of leaning into the touch.

“What are you doing to me?” Harry wonders out loud and Louis can’t suppress the giggle that leaves his mouth because _oh, the irony,_ if only he knew the answer to that same question. All he knows is that he wants to close the distance between them.

Harry smiles at the sound of Louis giggling, idly tracing his thumb over his cheekbone.

Louis’ phone breaks the spell they were under, making Louis jump back, and Harry reluctantly pull away his hand.

He takes out his phone without looking at Harry, mentally chanting his multiplication tables to avoid blushing like a schoolgirl with a crush, although he kind of feels like one at the moment, because, since when does he let out fucking _giggles_? That’s a new level of pathetic, even for him.

It’s a message from Zayn.

 **Hey babes, remember you have time scheduled at the studio this afternoon**.

“Shit,” he breathes, typing an _ok_ and sending it quickly.

“Everything alright?” Harry asks, a worried frown adorning his face.

“Yeah, just my best friend, who’s also my manager, reminded me that I have something to do today,” he explains, taking a sip from the god-awful latte.

“Oh,” Harry’s shoulders sag in disappointment. “I guess we have to leave then?”

“No, no,” Louis rushes to explain, “I have to be somewhere this afternoon, but I’m free until then, we can stay,” he frowns, suddenly self-conscious, “I mean, we can leave if you want to, sorry, I’m keeping you here when you just came to return my dog”.

“Hey, no, I want to be here,” Harry assures him. “And yes, I’d like to stay here, with you if that’s possible”.

“Definitely possible,” Louis says, smiling shyly at Harry who gives him a smile back.

He brings the cup to his mouth again as he feels Harry tapping lightly at his feet again. Louis taps back. _How on earth did he become the guy who plays footsie under the table?_ Louis lifts his eyes prepared to meet Harry’s, but the man is looking at his cup, a lovely, knowing smile on his lips. Louis definitely wants to stay here.

⤜ H ⤛

_Do you think ‘sun’ rhymes with ‘along’?_

Harry smiles at the text, his eyes unconsciously reading it over and over again.

Him and Louis have been texting nonstop for the last couple of days; they even had their first phone call last night, and although Louis had been tired and sleepy because he’d been out all day at the studio, they still talked for almost two hours, until the singer eventually fell asleep as Harry was telling him a story. Harry didn’t mind; on the contrary, he found it endearing, the cute little snoring noises coming through the speakers made Harry crave to be there with him, to pet his hair as Louis sleeps peacefully next to him.

He wanked twice with the thought of Louis’ body pressed against his.

He knows it’s too soon, but he can’t help it. As he can’t help to look at his phone constantly checking for new messages.

They haven’t met again since their coffeeshop _date?,_ but he wants to, desperately.

“Go on, darling, answer,” the woman tells him, motioning towards his phone. Harry flushes, bright red spreading on his cheeks.

“Sorry ma’am,” Harry says, getting to work. “Are these two books the only thing or do you need anything else?” He asks as he scans the barcodes.

“That’s all,” the costumer says, extending him a couple of bills.

“Thank you, have a great day,” he tells her giving her the books on a paper bag, he quickly throws a few markers in there to make up for the extra minutes he took for being distracted.

“You too, darling, and you better answer to your boy, he must be inpatient if you’re reaction to his texts are anything to go by”.

She walks out of the bookstore leaving a very embarrassed Harry behind the counter. He smiles sheepishly at himself, wishing with all his forces that her words were true, that Louis truly were his boy.

 _Take it slow_ , says a voice in the back of his mind, but Harry pushes it away. This is different. He’s never felt so much so early on, he’s never had this need to be close to another person, this longing to be a part of their life and for them –Louis– to be a part of his.

Harry unlocks his phone, immediately opening his conversation with Louis, re reading its last text. He frowns, _‘sun’_ and ‘ _along’_ don’t sound like they go together.

 **Huh… no?** He sends back, thinking about it again before typing again. **No wait, i guess it depends on the melody.**

 **But it could rhyme** , he decides on.

It’s something they’ve been doing for the last couple of days of them texting; Louis would text him verses or random words, asking for his opinion and thoughts –although Harry thinks he asks just to have an excuse to ditch an idea his colleagues came up with–. Louis has been going to the studio almost every day, apparently being pressured to meet a deadline to release a single. A single he still hasn’t written, nor does he have clue about what he wants to write it about, as he has complained to Harry multiple times a day.

Harry just indulges on his complaints; he’s had plenty of time to listen to all of Louis’ albums –more than once–, and he knows how hard it must be for Louis to go through a writer’s block as big as the one he’s currently at, but Harry _knows_ he’ll be able to work through it, and he tells him as much every time Louis starts to get too caught up on his own mind.

 _Damm it,_ Louis texts back, making Harry laugh.

 **Did you not want it to rhyme?** He can’t help but ask; he’s intrigued by the process of making music, still trying to decide if it’s similar to writing a novel or a poem, he’s leaning towards a no though.

 _Idk,_ Louis answers almost immediately, _I think this could lead to something, but I’m not sure yet_.

 **If you have a feeling this is good then keep on going,** he sends. He takes his self-assigned job as Louis’ cheerleader very seriously. **The worst thing that can happen is that you won’t like it and you’ll be back to exactly where you were this morning**.

 _You’re right,_ Louis’ answer says, making Harry smile proudly of himself. _Thanks pumpkin x_

Harry snorts, a mixture of laughter and disgust.

 **Ewww!** He sends back, adding a throwing up emoji for exaggeration purposes.

_You said autumn is a holiday! Now embrace it, honeybun._

Harry howls with laughter, his mind suddenly wondering off to think about the fact that _this man is single_ , that he is willingly setting his beautiful blue eyes on his phone to talk to _Harry_. Somehow that thought makes his stomach sink with anxiety

 **Has any of those ever worked for you?** he asks, hoping that the text sounds playful, but his heart is hammering in his chest. Maybe Louis is just playing, being friendly with him for taking care of Clifford, maybe this is the way he is with everyone and Harry isn’t as special after all.

He waits impatiently for an answer, a faint litany in the back of his mind saying _, please don’t be in love with someone else_ , _please don’t be playing, please like me back_. 

The rational part in his brain knows it can’t be a game for Louis, he knows that what happened between them at the coffeeshop a couple of days ago cannot be just him. He knows the feelings were –are– not one-sided, he couldn’t have imagined the way Louis was looking back at him mirroring all of his emotions, but the insecure, irrational part of himself can’t help to worry. After all, Louis is amazing, not only he’s famous and successful, but he’s also funny, caring, cute, and _so so_ wonderful; he could have anyone he wanted, and Harry, plain old boring Harry, isn’t sure he meets those standards.

He almost throws himself over the counter when his phone beeps with a new message.

_Seeing as this is the first time I’ve actually tried to flirt with anyone in years, you’d have to let me know if it’s working._

Harry blushes, his hands sweaty as he types: **Is this flirting then?** Louis’ response takes a few minutes to arrive, the writing bubble popping on and off twice before a new message comes through. Harry breathes out slowly trying to calm his nerves before reading.

_Well I bloody hope so, Harold! Haven’t been this nervous to write a text in like, forever. Want to woo you, want you to woo me :) now if you excuse me, I have to go back and try to get some songs out of me_

_Gonna drop by your bookstore later xx_

Harry’s nerves definitely won’t calm down, his stomach fluttering with butterflies as he stares at the two x’s at the end.

-

He spends the rest of the day pacing up and down the shop, only a few customers coming in, allowing him to have a few minutes of distraction; it’s not enough.

Around midday, Harry decides to close to the store for a while, his feet dragging him to the store next door. He’s always found himself going to his best friends whenever he can’t calm himself down.

“Look at what the wind has brought,” Niall says as soon as he walks in.

“Hey,” he smiles, walking around the counter to take a seat close to Niall.

“Oh no,” Liam says as walks over to greet him. “I know that face, it’s you _I’m falling in love_ face, why do you have that face?”

“Fuck off, I don’t have a face,” Harry rolls his eyes, although he can already feel his cheeks burning. “ _And_ , you would have it too if you were texting someone like him, Li, god, he’s so funny, I don’t think anyone has ever made me laugh the way he does, but he’s also caring, he listens to me when I tell him about random stuff as if I’m saying something super important,” he rambles on dreamily.

“So, you admit you have a _I’m falling in love_ face on then?” Niall asks, raising his eyebrows.

“I won’t admit nor deny,” Harry says as he stands up to get a water bottle from his friend’s refrigerator. He knows it’s too early; he’s only known Louis for a couple of days for fuck’s sake, but he already feels smitten by the man, a lovesick grin forming on his lips every time he talks to him.

“You should see your face when you talk about him, mate,” Niall says, smiling knowingly. “It’s like you’ve swallowed a collection of love poems or something”.

Harry snorts, letting out an airy laugh. “What kind of comparation is that?”

“A realistic one,” Niall mocks.

“So, I assume it’s going good between you two?” Liam asks curiously, but Harry knows there’s more behind his tone.

“I guess? I don’t really know what this is yet, so…,” he trails off, eyebrows knit together. “He’s coming to the store later, though, so yeah, I think it’s good”.

“And you text all day,” Niall adds, but Harry only nods, his eyes concentrating on the seriousness in Liam’s face.

“Everything okay, Li?” he pressures, knowing that his best friend is biting back his tongue.

“Yeah, it’s just–, you know I worry about you,” _there it is_ , Harry thinks, he nods signalling for his friend to go on. “And you only met this guy,”

“Louis,” Harry interrupts him.

“You only met _Louis_ a couple of days ago, and you were just telling us the other day about how much you weren’t into dating anymore”.

“Technically,” Harry corrects, throwing Liam a meaningful look, “I said that I wasn’t _looking_ , as in actively going out of my way, to find someone, not that I wasn’t into dating at all”.

“Fine,” Liam rolls his eyes. “But did it have to be with a guy like him?”.

“What do you mean ‘ _a guy like him’_?” Harry frowns.

“I mean someone famous and rich, someone so, I don’t know, H, someone so _different_ from you. Have you forgotten how famous he is? How he literally has people who make it their job to stalk or talk trash about him? I don’t want that to happen to you just because you date him”.

Harry shrugs, it’s not like he could forget. “I know that. I’ve thought about it, okay? But I’m–, _shit_ , I’m like really _really_ attracted to him, Li, and even if it gets complicated eventually, who cares? All relationships are complicated, and I don’t want to worry about something that might not ever happen, you know? Like, this could be an amazing lifetime thing where it wouldn’t matter what everyone else thinks because we’re _it_ for each other, _or_ this could be over in less than a month because we realize we’re not good for each other”.

He silently prays that this is the first case, the feeling too good to ever let it go.

“What I’m trying to say,” Harry continues before any of his friends can speak, “is that I don’t _know_ what’s going to happen, but I do know what I want, and there’s no external factor that’s going to change my mind about it, about what I want with _him_ ”.

“And what is it you want with him?” Niall asks, even though he probably already knows the answer, he’s known Harry long enough to know.

“Everything,” he says. Now that he knows that him and Louis are on the same page; he knows the only real possibility for him is to go all in. “You know how sometimes you meet someone, and you just _know_ that they’re going to be important in your life? That’s the feeling I get the more I talk to him”.

Liam gives him a smile, his eyes softening as he catches the sincerity in Harry’s voice. “I just want you to be happy, mate,” Liam says.

“I know, Li,” Harry assures him. “And I appreciate it, mate, I really do, but I’ve had enough broken hearts to know that this is different from any other relationship I’ve had before”.

“Even I can tell that I’ve never seen you so taken by someone as early on as you are with him,” Niall says, trying to ease the tension between them. Harry blushes at his words.

“He’s–, I don’t know how to explain it, he’s just different”.

“It’s alright, H, you don’t have to explain yourself to us,” Niall says. “But if you keep seeing him, I hope you know you’ll have to introduce him to us”.

“I will,” Harry grins at his friend, rolling his eyes at him. “You just want someone to talk about your non-existent guitar skills, don’t you?”

“Maybe,” Niall flips him off, laughing.

They decide to close the coffeeshop as well, taking a lunch break. Liam suggests a small restaurant down the block, and since there aren’t that many options around that part of town, they nod and follow Liam along the empty streets.

It’s a small yet pretty restaurant, the walls decorated with vines and exposed bricks that have been painted white. It’s right up Harry’s alley; the chairs and tables are made of iron, each of them bleached in a different shade of pastel colour. Harry sits on the one that matches Louis’ eyes. Shameful, he knows.

Harry orders Caesar salad, chuckling when Niall orders fried chicken with chips and Liam gets a “menu of the day” for himself.

They wait patiently for their orders to arrive, talking about random stuff and joking with each other. Harry’s in the middle of the story about when Gemma accidentally broke his nose when his phone beeps, the sound of a new message too familiar for Harry.

He takes his phone out excitedly, smiling when, just as he suspected, a message from Louis is waiting for him.

_So, do you mind if I bring Cliff? I wasn’t able to walk with him this morning and I have a feeling he misses you_

Harry smiles, his noise scrunching involuntary at the action. **Yes!!!** He types back, **I’ve missed him loads :c**

_Great! See you in a while curly xx_

Harry positively beams at the nickname, his hand unconsciously going to his hair, running his fingers through the loose curls in an attempt to tame them. Maybe he should learn to braid them, he silently wonders if Louis would like that look on him.

He snaps his head up at the sound of someone clearing their throat obnoxiously, his eyes quickly finding Niall’s across the table who’s giving him a meaningful yet teasing look.

“Mate, sorry to say this but you’re in some deep shit with him,” his friend speaks up, and in all honesty, Harry knows he’s right.

“He’s bringing Clifford! What do you expect me to do,” Harry whines, taking in a deep breath as he processes his thoughts. _He’s seeing Louis again today. “_ How do you expect me not to fall in love with him when he offers me his dog?”

Niall laughs, shaking his head as if Harry were a lost cause. He probably is.

-

Louis texts him saying that he’ll be at his bookshop in about twenty minutes. Harry starts running around the store, frantically trying to tidy up the mess of all the miss placed books and cushions scattered around his reading nook.

“Did I come at a bad time?” Louis’ voice comes from behind him, Harry jumps in surprise, the back of his head hitting the shelve he’d been organising.

“Ouch,” he grunts, his hands going up to rub at the back of his head, trying to ease the pulsating pain.

“Shit, love, are you okay?” Louis’ voice gets closer to him. Harry feels a pair of tender hands gently removing his from his hair, standing on his tiptoes to inspect Harry’s head. The singer runs his fingers through Harry’s hair, gently massaging his scalp to check if there’s blood or if it’s swollen. “Sorry,” he says, taking a step back, his hand falling by his side, Harry’s skin aching at the loss, “I shouldn’t have barged in like that”. 

“Don’t worry, ‘t was my fault,” Harry says as he focuses his sigh on the man in front of him.

Louis is wearing a pair of blue jeans and a squared yellow shirt under a burgundy sweater that probably costs the same amount as Harry’s rent; his hair styled in his usual fringe that Harry has come to realise must be his favourite hair style, inferring from all the hours he’s spent going through pictures of Louis. Harry suddenly feels self-conscious in his cheap hoodie and barely brushed hair.

“So, how are you, H? How was lunch with your friends?” Louis asks, leaning against one of the bookshelves.

“It was good, my friends were teasing me all the time, though,” he pouts, Louis’ eyes following the movement. “Apparently they missed having something to tease me with,” he says, looking down at Clifford who’s been insistently licking on his hand. “Okay, I’m sorry, boy, how are you? Have you missed me?” he kneels in front of the dog ruffling his hair and leaning to press a kiss at the top of his head.

“He likes you way too much,” Louis says, Harry still on the floor. “He was proper running when we were walking down the street, like he knew the way or something”.

“Hmm, I did bring hm to the store those day I took care of him, so he probably did know,” he comments, scratching Clifford’s back soothingly.

“As long as he doesn’t try to steal you from me then it’s okay,” Louis teases, patting at Clifford’s head. _Steal you from me_ , does that mean Louis wants to keep him? He can have all of him if it depended on Harry.

Harry lets out an airy, almost silent, laugh, standing up in front of Louis again. He takes out a scrunchie and ties his hair in a messy bun.

“Oh,” Louis looks at the action with a small pout. “I like your hair down”.

Harry feels a blush spreading on his cheeks. “Yeah? Are you in it for my hair then?” he jokes, raising his eyebrows at Louis.

“Maybe…,” the singer says teasingly, taking a step closer to Harry, “but, no, the hair is only a bonus,” he whispers, raising his hand to tuck a loose curl behind Harry’s ear.

Harry inhales sharply as Louis’ hand lingers on his cheek.

“And you?” Louis says, his eyes so blue it makes Harry feel dizzy, he wants to stare at them forever, counting the different shades of blue in them. “Are you in for my hair too?”

“Maybe… or I could be in it for the fame and wealth,” Harry jokes, the words instantly reminding him of what Liam had said earlier, making him cringe.

“Wouldn’t be the first one,” Louis says shrugging, trying to sound nonchalant but Harry can see the nervousness in his eyes and just, _no_.

Harry frowns. “Hey, no. I was joking,” he says looking straight into Louis’ eyes, hoping he can read the sincerity in them, “I–, uhm, I like you a lot, Louis, like, _a lot_. I know we’re just getting to know each other, and I’m probably rushing everything, but I _need_ you to know that it isn’t like that, not for me. I’m in this for _you_ , for how you are, for who you are,” he says, taking a deep breath before continuing. “You could tell me you just want to be friends and I’d be alright with that–, I mean, I wouldn’t _love_ the idea, but I want you in my life, Louis, I don’t care if it’s just as friends or more as something more. I want _you_ in my life, I–, this feels special for me”.

“This feels special for me too,” Louis’ voice barely above whispers, so soft Harry has to lean in to listen to him properly. “But I don’t want you in my life as just a friend, I want more”.

“Yeah?” Harry breathes out, hoping bubbling inside him.

“Yeah”.

“Thank god,” he brushes his hand against Louis, hesitating for a second before taking it.

“Wait, listen,” Louis looks torn, looking into Harry’s eyes with poorly concealed distress as he intertwines their fingers. “I want more, I do, I–, I want to give _this_ , whatever this is, a try, but, huh, I’m not great at relationships, Haz, like, I haven’t had a proper relationship in _years,_ I don’t think I’ve ever even had a real one”.

“We can learn together,” Harry says, looking down at their linked hands. “I’ve had a ton of relationships over the years, Lou, especially when I was in Uni, and it took away a piece of my heart every time they ended, not because I was in love with them, but because I felt like I wasn’t made for relationship. But with you, it feels like I could be”. 

“Maybe we’re bad for everyone else, but perfect for each other,” Louis says, smiling coyly.

“God, you’re such a writer,” Harry laughs, pulling Louis with him as he walks towards the door. He lets go of Louis’ hand unwillingly, grabbing his keys and putting on a coat as he motions for Louis to open the door.

“Where are we going?” Louis asks once Harry has closed the store, Clifford walking happily between them.

“I was thinking about making you dinner?” Harry says, nervous as he looks at Louis.

“You cook?” the singer asks, his brows shooting up in surprise.

“Uh… yeah?” he says timidly. “You don’t like cooking?”

“Is not as much as I don’t like it, but I _can’t_ do it,” Louis laugh self-deprecatingly, “I tried to cook pasta once, almost burned the house down”.

“I’m sure you _can_ cook, Lou,” Harry smiles at the man, rolling his eyes fondly. “Either way, you’re helping me”.

Louis narrows his eyes, looking at him suspiciously. “Helping you in what?”

“Cooking, of course,” Harry says.

“Nope,” Louis shakes his head fiercely, “absolutely not, Harold”. 

“Lou…, please,” he whines, sticking out his bottom lip and batting his eyelashes in an attempt to look cute.

“Ugh, fine,” Louis gives in, groaning as he takes his eyes away from Harry’s face, “you’re lucky you’re so pretty”.

Harry looks down to pet Clifford, hoping he can conceal his blush from Louis’ view. He’s not sure it works.

⤜ L ⤛

_All of my life I’ve been_

_Thinking to myself it won’t get better_

_But it feels different when you’re with me_

The lyrics stare back at Louis from his Notes app on his phone. He just wrote them. The first good, meaningful lyrics he’s written in, _shit_ , months.

They were on their way to Harry’s apartment, the younger man gushing about the recipe they were going to make when Harry decided to stop at the small park close to the bookstore to take a picture of Clifford in the middle of a pile of leaves.

“Please, he’ll look so cute,” Harry had said, his beautiful green eyes shining with excitement. How could Louis say no?

So, here they are, in the middle of the park, Harry standing a few meters in front of Louis, phone in hand taking pictures of Clifford, making silly faces and snapping his fingers to keep the dog’s attention on him.

It was an unintended, involuntary movement; his hand reaching for the back pocket of his jeans, curling around his phone, opening the Notes app as he stares at Harry playing with his dog thinking: _how on earth is this happening?_

So, yeah, he might be a little bit in love with Harry already. Who cares how long have they known each other when he seems to be the reason to bring back Louis’ writing for the first time in months.

Harry laughs as Clifford jumps at him, and Louis wants to write a whole fucking album about just about Harry’s laugh. And then, another one about his eyes. And another one about how he looks at Louis when he thinks he isn’t paying attention. And then another one just because. And another one and another one.

“Lou, what are you doing?” Harry calls, turning to look back at him, the park completely empty, making Harry’s voice echo. “Come see the pictures I took; I think I have some great ones”.

“Do you now?” Louis asks, a playful tone in his voice as he pockets his phone again and starts walking towards Harry.

Harry nods enthusiastically, turning his phone to show the screen to Louis.

“These are actually pretty good, H,” he says as he scrolls through the pictures. “Oh, I really like that one,” he points to one of Clifford jumping out of the lief pile, his tongue out as he looks at the camera, “can you send that to me, love?”

“Sure,” Harry smiles at him, “I’ll do it at the flat, though, we really need to get going now if we want to be able to cook”.

“Okay, first of all,” Louis says, walking to Clifford to attach his leash to the collar, tugging at it a few times to make sure it isn’t loose, “you were the one who insisted on taking pictures of Cliff, and second, you want to cook, not me”.

“Lou, you know you don’t have to help me if you don’t want to, right?” Harry asks, looking down at Clifford, trying to conceal the nervousness in his voice.

“I know, love,” Louis says, reaching out hesitantly to grab Harry’s hand. How does this boy make him feel like a teenager again? “I want to, I promise, but I can’t promise I’ll be good at it,” he laughs self-deprecatingly.

“I’ll make you do the simple tasks,” Harry says, his hand still under Louis’ hold as he takes a step closer to him. Louis follows the movement expectantly; the air between them seems to shift, anticipation hanging thickly around them, a shared sense of expectation flickering. “Louis, I…” Harry croaks out, his voice uneven and tight as he takes another step closer.

Louis can feel his breath on his face from how close they are, their chests an inch from being pressed together. Louis sees as Harry’s eyes dart down to his lips. He raises his chin, looking straight into the green eyes in front of him.

Just as quickly Louis feels himself being pulled, Clifford yanking on his leash making the singer fall into the pile of leaves.

“Argh,” he moans, rubbing at the place where his back hit the ground. Mortification washing over him as Harry starts laughing. “Thanks a lot, Cliff,” he mumbles, feeling his cheeks go red.

Harry’s still laughing, these tiny little noises coming out his mouth as he tries to restrain himself from openly barking out a laugh. Louis lays back on his back, allowing himself to relax as giggles ( _giggles!_ ) escape from his mouth. He looks up at the man who’s now almost standing on top of him, as he curls on himself, his hands on his belly from how hard he’s laughing, and he’s just so breathtakingly beautiful.

Louis starts to stand up when Harry finally catches his breath and opens his mouth to speak.

“Wait, stay there for a second,” he says as he pulls out his phone, taking a picture of Louis laying on the leaves as he looks at Harry instead of the camera. _God, he’s sure he has heart eyes_.

“Okay, Harold, help me up now,” Louis says, extending one of his hand and making a silent motion as he flutters it around in front of him. Harry takes the cue and pulls him back on his feet.

They stare at each other for a second, the reality of what _almost_ happened sinking on Louis’ chest.

“We better go now if we want to eat at a decent hour,” Harry clears his throat, nodding towards the sidewalk by the edge of the park.

Louis nods, strengthening his hold on Clifford’s leash to make sure he isn’t going to pull him to the ground again.

The afternoon it’s cold and windy around them as they walk out of the park, and Louis regrets not bringing a jacket with him.

“Hey, here,” Harry stops them at the edge of the park, starting to unzip his jacket.

“No, I’m okay,” Louis lies, standing up a bit straighter to show that he isn’t shivering.

“Lou, c’mon, you’re cold,” Harry says, finally opening up his jacket and sliding it off his shoulders. Louis opens his mouth to speak again but Harry shakes his head. “I have a hoodie under this, and you don’t even have a jacket, please, Louis?”

Louis rolls his eyes, feigning annoyance when in reality his cheeks are turning red from the kindness and thoughtfulness of the man in front of him. It amazes him how he can feel so much around a person he knows so little, how he feels like he knows everything about Harry but at the same time he knows nothing at all.

Harry holds his jacket in front of Louis, who turns around and slides the material over him, tugging it tightly around his back and middle. Louis sighs in contentment. 

“Better?” Harry asks, placing his hands on Louis’ shoulders and gently turning him to face him again.

Louis nods, smiling shyly up at Harry.

Just in that moment a small raindrop falls on Harry’s cheekbone, slowly sliding down. The green-eyed man huffs out a laugh, making it land on his dimple.

“Can I…?” Louis whispers, taking a step closer to Harry, his eyes not leaving the place where the raindrop still is.

“Yeah,” Harry breathes out as Louis raises his hand, his bright, curious green eyes following the movement of Louis’ small hand.

Louis brushes his thumb over the place, the rest of his fingers curling tenderly around Harry’s jaw.

“I think it’s going to rain,” Harry whispers, not moving at all. His voice soft, tentative, the one you’d use with a frightened kitten to prevent scaring them. Louis hums in agreement, his hand still placed on Harry’s cheek as he looks up at the sky, just in time for another raindrop to fall, this time on Louis’ lips.

Harry’s eyes focus on it, the intensity of his stare sending shivers down Louis’ spine.

“Can I…?”

“Yeah,” Louis murmurs, his gaze shifting from Harry’s eyes to his lips, then up to his eyes again.

Harry’s hand slowly and deliberately brushes against Louis’ bottom lip, easily removing the raindrop. He’s leaning forward, his face looking down at Louis, his eyes uncertain. Louis’ hand travels to Harry’s nape, leaning in as well, until there’s a pair of lips pressing against his own.

It seems that Harry kisses just like he talks: slow and deep, his lips brushing Louis’ firmly, as if his entire attention is set on the place where their mouths are joined. His hands come up cradle Louis’ face, his big thumbs grazing over his long eyelashes, which flutter as Louis closes his eyes.

Harry nibs at his bottom lip, causing a small sound to come out of Louis’ mouth, which Harry eagerly swallows as he licks into his mouth. Everything around them disappears; the only real thing in Louis’ mind is the way their tongues brush against one another, fighting for dominance; the only thing he hears is Harry whimpering on his mouth as he tangles his fingers in his hair, pulling at it when he feels one of Harry’s hand traveling from his face down his side, until it rests in the curve of Louis’ back, pressing him against his body, closer, _closer, closer_.

Harry tastes like coconut chapstick, and Louis chases the taste, fisting the material of Harry’s hoodie in his hand, stepping on his tiptoes to get himself closer, deeper, warmer. Harry helps him by taking his other hand to Louis’ waist, and, with surprising gentleness, he pulls him closer.

They’re so close Louis can _feel_ the outline of Harry’s body alongside his own, he can sense the way their bodies seem to fit perfectly together, Harry taking up all the empty space between them. He can feel the erratic beat of Harry’s heart under his hand, which is still secured on his chest. He can feel the way Harry’s breath changes, how it stutters every time Louis tightness his hold on his curls.

Their kiss is deep and dirty, and Louis is surprised that no one has interrupted them for snogging in the entrance of a public park. Louis’ cock twitches at the sound of a moan escaping from Harry, which is muffled by the singer’s lips.

God, he needs him closer. He needs to run his hands all over Harry’s body, he needs for Harry to kiss every inch of him. His skin feels hot, like he’s burning with desire and need for the man who’s holding him like he’s the most precious treasure in the world.

Harry pulls away slowly, his lips tracing a path from the corner of Louis’ mouth to the small curve behind his ear; he nips at it, making Louis let out an embarrassing noise that sounds like the perfect combination of a gasp and a moan.

“Lou,” Harry chokes out, voice hoarse as he presses an innocent kiss on Louis’ cheek, pulling back slightly to look at him in the eye, “come on, let’s get us to my flat”.

Louis leans in, pressing his lips on Harry’s on last time, the touch pure and chaste as a light drizzle falls around them. “Yeah,” he says, “let’s go”.

-

They enter Harry’s house messily, their hands unable to stay away from each other, their clothes dripping onto the ground from the rain that started pouring as they stepped out of the subway.

The sound of their giggles echoing through the empty apartment as Clifford skips to sit on the sofa, as if this was normal behaviour, just another day in the life. It feels weirdly domestic and Louis loves it.

He’s scared by how much he loves it.

“Wait, Lou,” Harry says, taking a step back and putting his hand on Louis’ chest, almost like he needs that physical barrier to stay away. His lips are swollen, his cheeks flushed red; Louis wants to _devour_ him. “Dinner first, yeah?”

Louis draws in a shaky breath before slowly letting it out. “Yeah,” he says, trying to control the heaviness of his breathing, “dinner first”.

Harry smiles brightly at him, and he looks so happy Louis can’t stop himself from stepping on his tiptoes and give him a quick peck on his lips.

“Lou…,” Harry whines, leaning in too, pressing his lips firmly against Louis’. “Okay, stop,” he says, “I thought you wanted me to woo you”.

“Hmm,” he traces his tongue over Harry’s bottom lip, his mind fuzzy, “you are wooing me right now,” he mumbles, his hands travelling to the long, soft curls that fall over the man’s shoulders. “But fine, let’s get to work”.

He follows Harry to his kitchen, looking over the peninsula at his dog, who’s lazily laying on the couch completely unbothered, almost taking up the entire space with his large form.

“He really likes my couch,” Harry says, following Louis’ gaze. “Until he found the way to my bed and then he’d sleep on the bed”.

“Really?” Louis asks intrigued, “in my house he always goes to wake me up, but he prefers sleeping on the couch”.

“I think it was because he was sad,” he says, his eyebrows knitting together in a small frown, “like, maybe he went to my bed because he needed company since you weren’t here, but at your place he feels safe”.

Louis nods. It makes sense; Clifford has only ever known Louis’ house and Louis’ smell, anything different could’ve disoriented him. He thinks back sadly at the couple of days he was away from his dog, the desperation to find him and how scared he’d been that something had happened to him; he couldn’t imagine how it had been like for Clifford.

“He looks happier now,” Harry continues, placing his hand softly on Louis’ shoulder, rubbing fingers with his thumb; the action makes Louis lean into the touch. “I’m so happy found you”.

 _I’m so happy I found you_ , Louis thinks. He doesn’t say it, though, he knows he can’t. He can’t wait to be able to say everything to Harry, to have that kind of trust with him.

“Me too,” he settles on saying, turning around to face Harry. “So, cooking?”

“Right!” Harry laughs, pointing his index finger in the air as if he’d just remembered what they were supposed to be doing.

They fall into an easy rhythm after that, Louis carefully following Harry’s instructions as the taller man fumbles around the kitchen, taking out different bowls, measuring cups and ingredients. They move around each other coordinately, so in sync it almost feels rehearsed, giving Louis a sense of domesticity, he has never felt with anyone before.

It takes him less than ten minutes to realize that Harry can really cook; they’re making honey roasted the chicken, the sweet smell making him feel slightly overwhelmed, as they pour the honey on the saucepan to let it simmer. Louis tries to keep his eyes from traveling down when Harry bends to open the oven, his broad back testing and making his toned muscles visible as he puts the chicken inside.

Harry must sense his eyes on him, sending Louis a smug grin when he stands up. He takes a step towards him, cupping his cheek with one hand as he leans down to give him a soft kiss, the lingering taste of honey making Louis moan and press his chest against Harry’s.

Louis feels in heaven.

They kiss innocently for what feels like hours, their lips brushing together in a swift dance, tongues playfully tasting each other, teasing, flirting. They only pull apart when the countdown timer is finished, the noise breaking through the small bubble they’ve created. Harry sighs contently, nudging Louis’ nose with his own in a soft eskimo kiss.

“I think dinner’s ready,” Louis whispers, their faces still close, his smile mirroring Harry’s.

“Let’s eat then,” Harry says, pecking Louis’ cheek before putting on a pair of oven mitts and taking their dinner out of the stove carefully. “Hope you don’t mind it that we have to eat here,” he says, pointing at the kitchen’s peninsula, “but there’s no way I could fit a dining table here,” he laughs self-deprecatingly.

“They’re overrated anyway,” Louis huffs out a laugh, trying to reassure Harry, because he really doesn’t care where they eat, he just wants to stare at the boy and make him laugh and smile for as long as he can, “I eat on the kitchen most days, I can’t be bothered to set up the dining table, or go beyond the island for that matter,” he smiles, taking the two plates Harry is handing him, helping him to set them up on the peninsula, “I only end up using it when my family comes over for Christmas, and even then it’s only for the dinner itself that we use it, we prefer to eat in the kitchen for breakfast and such, makes it less formal”.

“That sounds nice,” Harry says, the uneasiness that had settled on his face gone as he takes a seat beside Louis, cutting a piece of the chicken and putting it on his plate. “Do they usually come to yours? Or do you go to their as well?”

“Usually I go back to Doncaster,” Louis explains, happy that Harry seems interested in his life; not that Louis had thought otherwise, but it was nice to have reassurance that Harry appears to be as into him as he is. “It’s where I was born and raised, pretty much most of my mates are still there, as well as my family, so it’s easier to go back and catch up with everyone at once, especially since I normally wouldn’t have the time, what with being on tour and all”.

“Makes sense,” Harry comments, humming when he takes a bite of his food. “So, when you’re on tour you don’t see them at all?” he frowns, looking sad.

“No, I do see them,” he says, “I usually get a small break after every leg of the tour so I use that time to visit, and sometimes Lottie, the eldest sibling after me, flies over to join me for a couple of shows. It’s just hard to get us all together at once, that’s why Christmas is especial”.

“All of us?”

“Yeah, all my siblings and the parents,” Louis shrugs, “I try to–”

“Wait,” Harry interrupts, “how many siblings do you have?

“Six, five sisters and a brother”.

“Six!” Harry’s face lights up, openly beaming at Louis, and _god,_ he wants to take a picture and take it with him everywhere he goes, “are there any babies?”

“Yes, the baby twins are only two years old,” Louis explains, letting out a laugh when he sees Harry’s face positively lighting up even more. “We have two sets of twins”.

“Oh my God,” Harry breathes, his eyes wide in excitement, “I love babies! Do you have any pictures?”

Louis smiles brightly, he pulls out his phone, quickly clicking on his gallery, and opening his “ _family_ ” folder where almost a thousand pictures of him and his family have been accumulating through the years. He shows the screen to Harry, who eagerly leans in to look at all the pictures Louis is showing him.

Harry’s eyes are shining, happily pointing out different things in the pictures, asking Louis about the context behind every one of them, casually commenting stuff that make Louis’ heart beat faster.

“We should do that someday!” he says as he looks at a picture of Louis and the twins ice skating.

He says it so easily, so sincerely it makes the singer stutter, his eyes inevitably searching for the sincerity in Harry’s face, sighing happily when he finds it. He can’t believe how he got this lucky. He wants to keep this man so bad.

Louis always thought that as a writer his vocabulary was pretty extensive, but as he watches Harry, from the way his shoulders shake when he laughs, to the way he scrunches his nose when he tries to hide a smile, Louis realises he can’t come up with any other synonym to describe the man besides _beautiful_.

He mindlessly wonders if he’ll ever find another word.

As they finish their dinner and move towards Harry’s couch, their mouths inevitably finding their way to one another, lazily making out for hours until it gets too late and Louis has to literally force himself out of Harry’s apartment, Louis realizes that he wouldn’t mind having to spend every day trying to come up with words to describe the man who occupies everyone of his thoughts.

-

The next day, Louis finds himself back on the studio. His mind unable to stop the words and melodies that have been gathering inside him, asking to be poured out, to be made into a reality.

In less than an hour they have a concept for the melody and half the lyrics written down. They have it recorded in less than three.

It’s not the best one he’s ever written, definitely not single material, but it’s _something_. It’s so much more than anything he’s written since his last tour ended.

The lyrics remind him of green eyes and a dimpled smile, and he’s already in his car when he reaches for his phone and dials Harry, rolling his eyes at himself; he saw him yesterday, he just wrote a damm song about the man, he should be able to have some self-control and stop thinking about him for at least a day. Apparently, he can’t.

“Hey, Lou,” Harry’s voice comes through the speakers in Louis’ car, his deep voice resonating around him.

“Hey,” he says, fumbling for his sunglasses when he notices a few paparazzies waiting outside the studio’s gate. “Are you busy?”

“Not really, just lying in bed and looking for something on Netflix”.

“Great!” Louis chimes happily, “can I come over? We can order some pizza”.

“Huh,” Harry hums, the silence stretching awkwardly, making Louis shift in his seat nervously.

“I mean, if you’d rather–”

“No, no,” Harry rushes to say, “I mean, yes, I–,” he snorts, and Louis is just _so endeared by him_ , “I’d love for you to come, but, huh, my place is a bit of a mess, I did laundry after you left yesterday and everything is scattered around the living room so we’d have to be at my room since it’s the only other room in my apartment”.

“Oh,” a nervous laugh comes out of Louis, his imagination too generous with the amount of fantasies it paints on his head, “I don’t mind if you don’t”.

“Okay,” Harry says, making Louis smile, “when are you coming over?”

“Already on my car so I’ll be there in twenty?”

“Great, see you then Lou”.

“See you, H,” he says, reluctantly ending the call.

The drive to Harry’s apartment passes by quickly. He puts on the song they recorded today and mentally counts the arrangements he wants to do, adding a backup line here or another chord there. It makes Louis’ stomach flutter when he thinks about the man who inspired the song, when he pictures the taller man wrapped around him, his taller frame enveloping Louis’ shorter one.

He parks in front of Harry’s building, his eyes roaming around the area to make sure none of the paparazzies have followed him here. When he’s convinced that he’s on his own, he steps out of his car and skips until he’s inside of the elevator, his body shivering in excitement.

He’s just so _into_ this man.

Harry opens the door with a smile on his face, his hands immediately making his way around Louis’ waist, pulling him inside his apartment and closing the door with one of his feet.

Louis positively _mewls_ when he presses his face on Harry’s neck, inhaling the manly wooden smell of his cologne. He feels as Harry presses his lips on Louis’ hair in a lingering kiss, slowly moving his face as he nudges his cheek with his nose.

“Hey,” Harry whispers, pulling away slightly to look at him.

“Hey,” Louis echoes, moving his hands from Harry’s shoulders to the back of his head, burying his fingers in his soft curls, “I missed you,” he says earnestly, allowing the reality of the words to sink, “I saw you yesterday and I missed you, Harry, what are you even doing to me?”

Harry lets out a small laugh, pressing their foreheads together, “I missed you too, Lou”.

The singer smiles as he looks up into Harry’s eyes, closing the distance between with a kiss. Louis sighs into Harry’s mouth, parting his lips to allow their tongues to intertwin in a slow but heated kiss. The taste of Harry has Louis moaning into his mouth, his smell enclosing the air around them, making him dizzy. He involuntarily twitches his hips forward to meet Harry’s, the contact makes the other man grunt and press their hips together, swivelling them deliciously. Louis feels himself getting hard in his jeans, his cock jerking at the way its pressed against Harry’s growing hard on.

“Baby,” Harry says, his voice gruff.

Louis pulls away, taking a step back as he feels his cheeks blushing in embarrassment.

“Sorry,” he says, looking away in an attempt to reduce his heartbeat.

“C’mon,” Harry offers him his hand, which Louis takes happily, “I didn’t know what you’d like to watch so movie selection is all in your power”.

Louis rolls his eyes, “I’m the worst at choosing movies, literally end up falling asleep in the middle of it when it’s my choice, so it’s your call, H”.

Harry ends up choosing a romantic comedy about a girl who loses her memory every day and the guy tries to make her fall in love with him every day. Louis is sure he would’ve enjoyed it, if he were actually paying attention to it, that is. Instead, he sits next to Harry –on his bed, the place where he _sleeps_ , Louis tries to avoid thinking about this–, their bodies pressed together side by side, the pressure of Harry’s shoulders and thighs against his’ keeping him warm.

Louis is fidgety, moving around on the bed as he tries to find comfortable position to be in.

Harry notices his struggles and opens his arms for him, tilting his head towards his chest, signalling for him to lay there. Louis sighs happily, wrapping one of his arms around Harry’s middle as he fits his head in the crook of his neck.

Louis pays little attention to the movie, focusing instead on drawing shapes in Harry’s tummy, his hand slowly venturing dow until his fingers brush against the exposed skin at the edge of the shirt that has rolled over from Louis playing with the material so much.

He slides his hand under the material covering Harry, tilting his head up to start pressing kisses from Harry’s jaw and make his way down his neck. The taller man turns his head slightly, giving Louis more space to play with; he nibs at the place behind Harry’s ear, making the other man let out a loud, shameless moan.

Harry tightness his grip on Louis, the arm that was around his shoulder moving to Louis’ nape as his other arm moves to grip Louis’ thigh, pulling at it gently. Louis gets the hint, and he moves his mouth away from Harry’s neck to his lips, pressing a soft kiss into his mouth as he swings his leg over his body, straddling him.

They move together in sync, Harry sits up on the bed, adjusting Louis’ weight on top of him, allowing the singer to feel the muscles in his abs clenching against him.

Harry’s hand that had been on Louis’ hair travels to his lower back, the other still on his thigh. He bites Louis’ lower lip, kissing him fervently as Louis starts to roll his hips against him. Harry grunts into his mouth, his hand traveling under Louis’ shirt, the contact sending shivers up his spine.

Harry’s hand travels up, tugging at his shirt, trying to get it out of the way. Louis breaks the kiss, smiling smugly when Harry groans in protest. He pulls back, rushing to get the material out of him, throwing his shirt somewhere around Harry’s bedroom floor as surges forward again to roughly press their mouths together.

Harry rolls them over, nudging a thigh in between his legs, as he holds his body weight on his forearms by the side of Louis’ head. He pulls away with a wet smack of their lips, as he starts to press kisses down Louis’ exposed neck and collarbones.

Louis feels Harry mouthing over his damp neck, switching from licking to biting at his pulse point, before lowering himself to nose along his collarbones, sinking his teeth into his skin playfully. Louis starts to get impatient as Harry moves his mouth slowly on his chest, wriggling to get himself higher so he can feel Harry’s tongue against his nipples.

“Eager much, baby?” Harry’s voice sounds _wrecked_ , gruff and hoarse as he sticks his tongue out to give Louis’ nipple a kitten lick.

Louis lets out an embarrassingly high whine as he arches his back to chase after the feeling. Harry smirks at him, lowering his mouth to catch the nipple in between his teeth, sucking ardently as Louis moans again, moving one of his hands to thread on Harry’s hair to keep him there.

Harry focuses his attention on Louis, his mouth still playing with his sensitive nipple, reaching with his other hand to rub the other one between his fingers, tugging and tweaking to stimulate the sounds coming from the singer’s mouth. Suddenly, it gets _too much_ , the weight from Harry’s body on top of him is not enough, and he needs more, closer, now.

He whines when Harry pulls away, his chest panting heavily and making a tsk sound with his tongue as Louis begins to roll his hips against Harry’s thigh. He looks down at Louis with a smile, leaning in slowly, pressing a chaste kiss on his mouth that has Louis melting into the bed.

“What do you want baby?” Harry asks against his lips.

“Haz, _please_ ,” Louis pleads, closing his eyes as he surges his hips forwards again, seeking for the pleasure he’d just felt when rolling his hard on against Harry. “ _Please_ ”.

“I’ve got you, Lou,” Harry whispers, moving to press a kiss on each of Louis’ closed lids, another one on his nose, before sliding down, leaving a trail of kisses all over his chest. He takes his time on his collarbones, making sure to suck and bite hard enough until he’s satisfied when a red mark starts to show, then, he moves down to his nipples again, barely paying them any attention before he starts to press his tongue against his tummy, licking down until he’s nosing over Louis’ erection.

Harry pulls away abruptly, taking off his shirt as he leaves Louis shivering at the sudden lack of warmth on top of him.

“Fuck,” he breathes, pressing down to palm himself over his jeans in an attempt to seek relief as he watches Harry putting his hair on a messy bun.

“’S this what you want baby?” Harry says as he lowers his body over Louis again, his hips thrusting up ever so slightly, allowing him to feel the thick line of his cock pressed up against his.

Louis nods eagerly, unable to form any words as the other boy ruts against him.

Harry’s hand travel down his body, marvelling at the curves on his waist, as he kisses Louis thoroughly, their tongues battling together to get to the other’s mouth. Finally, Harry’s hands reach the waistband of Louis’ jeans, and with short but firm nod from the singer, he starts working quickly on the buttons, pulling them and his boxer briefs off as Louis moans quietly. Louis decides to help him on his task, lifting his hips until the clothes are out of his body, his cock sprinting free, rock hard and dripping against his stomach.

He hears Harry drawing in a sharp breath as he focuses his gaze on Louis, but Louis can’t be bothered to open his eyes to look, he just _needs more_.

Harry cups Louis’ cock firmly, his long fingers griping tightly on his length as he gives him a small, experimental stroke.

Louis pushes his hips up involuntarily; he can feel his pulse quickening as Harry stares at him in awe, his hand no longer moving, but providing his cock with enough heat to feel a bit of relied. He lets out another moan as he fucks up again, waking himself on Harry’s hand.

“Fuck,” Harry says, and Louis finally finds the strength to open his eyes to look at the man. He seems mesmerized by everything, his eyes not leaving the place where his hand is; he wraps his hand around his cock more firmly, allowing Louis to get more friction as he continues to surge his hips forwards, “you sound so pretty, just like the rest of you,” Harry babbles, starting to move his hand. “So pretty for me baby”.

Louis gets impatient easily, the pressure on his cock is too light, Harry’s hand not moving fast enough to get him to the point he desperately wants to be.

“Harry,” he whines, scratching Harry’s back desperately.

The man grunts, taking his hand away from his cock, and Louis wants to cry out in frustration.

His hands start to travel down his body, but before they can wrap around his hard on, Harry grips his wrists, pinning them against the mattress by each side of Louis’ head.

Harry’s mouth travels down his body, stopping only when it’s in front of Louis’ cock, which twitches expectantly when he feels Harry’s breath fanning over his cock. Louis throws his head back against the pillow, letting out an unbashful groan when he feels Harry’s tongue against the base, travelling all along his shaft until he wraps his pretty pink lips around the tip, sucking lightly, and his cock impossibly fattens up further against Harry’s mouth.

“ _Shit,_ fuck, Harry,” he babbles out; he knows he isn’t making any sense right now, but all he can focus on is the warm, lovely, tight feeling he gets as Harry sinks down on his length.

Harry starts going at it truly, he moves his head in a coordinated rhythm, the tip of Louis’ cock almost touching the back of his throat from how _deep_ he’s sucking him off. Louis looks down at the man; his lips are stretched tight and pink around his cock, and Louis absentmindedly wonders if it hurts, there’s drool running down the corner of his lips as he tongues around the head, alternating from going all the way down to sucking lazily on Louis’ tip.

“Fucking hell,” he grunts as Harry looks up at him, his eyes shining with unshed tears. One single tear leaks from the corner of his eye, rolling down his cheek slowly and with all the force he can muster, Louis reaches his hand and thumbs over it to catch it.

He leaves his hand on Harry’s cheek, feeling the silhouette of his own cock against his palm, and it’s almost _too much_. His hips are bucking forward at their own accord, slow but controlled, dragging his cock into Harry’s mouth, and Harry positively sobs as he swivels his hips against the mattress searching for his own relief. Louis can feel the contractions of his throat against his cock as he moans.

“Mmm, yeah, Lou, fuck my mouth,” Harry says dreamily, before relaxing the muscles on his throat and sinking all the way down.

Louis tries to muffle his groan as he processes the words. He cups Harry’s chin in his hand, making the boy look up at him and let go of his hold on his cock; there’s a string of saliva as Harry pulls off, looking at Louis with a frown on his face.

“Lou?” Harry asks, confused, and Louis rushes to explain. He wants to get his mouth back on him again.

“Want me to fuck your mouth?” he asks, and he can’t even recognize his own voice.

Harry hums and nods his head vigorously, taking a hold of Louis’ cock and opening his mouth for him. He licks at the slit slowly and Louis absolutely _loses it_ , he lets out a whimper as he holds Harry in his place by tangling his finger in his hair, hips stuttering back and forth, fucking into Harry’s mouth in earnest.

He moans as he tugs on Harry’s hair, desperately searching for his release inside his boy’s mouth. Harry’s mouth is opened obscenely, spit dripping down his chin allowing him to slide easily around his lips.

Harry cups Louis’ balls in one of his hands, making the singer wriggle in his place, thrusting his hips violently making Harry choke.

“Stay still, baby Lou, or I won’t let you come,” Harry says, taking his mouth off his cock and pressing a soft kiss on his left hipbone. “Can you stay still for me?”

“Uh huh,” he mumbles, whining in protest as Harry mouths over his length without wrapping his lips around it, “ _Harry, please_ ”.

“So impatient baby,” Harry whispers, giving a small peck at the tip of his cock before sinking down until his nose is pressed against Louis’ skin.

Louis is about to push forwards when he remembers Harry’s words and stops himself, pliantly staying still as Harry holds his hips in a bruising grip.

He can feel the heat prickling at the bottom of his stomach. Harry’s hand travels from his balls slowly along his bum, pressing ever-so-gently on his hole, the tip of his finger pushing into Louis’ rim, and that’s all it takes.

“ _Haz,_ shit, fucking, ah… ’m coming,” he rambles, putting his hand on Harry’s shoulder trying to push him away, but Harry only wraps him lips around him more firmly, sucking Louis’ come vigorously, making sure to swallow every drop.

Harry pulls off with filthy smack of his lips, smiling radiantly at Louis, his eyes shining with pride and arousal.

He surges forward to press their lips together in a passionate kiss, tasting himself on Harry’s mouth. He can feel the man’s hard on pressing against his leg as the lay back on the bed, Harry on top of him making sure to keep their lips sealed together.

Louis nudges one of his hands in between their bodies, cupping Harry’s cock over hid jeans, and _fuck_ , how is it possible that they’ve done all of this and Harry hasn’t even taken his clothes off.

“Come on me,” he whispers against his lips, rapidly working on Harry’s belt, getting it out of the way.

“Fuck,” Harry grunts out, voice hoarse from having Louis’ _cock_ in his _mouth. Shit_. “Where,” he asks, but it sounds more like a command as he hurriedly opens the zipper of his jeans and lowers the waistband of his trousers, taking his cock out, wrapping a firm hand around it, stroking slowly.

“Wherever you want,” Louis breathes, his eyes not moving away from Harry’s cock, his mouth watering when he sees it twitching, leaking precome over his hand.

Harry’s eyes get even darker as they roam over Louis’ naked body. “Your collarbones,” he grunts out, “ _fuck, Lou, please_ ”.

“Yeah,” he moves up the bed, positioning himself in front of Harry, arching his back slightly as he rests his weight on his arms, lifting his chin to give Harry a better view.

“Shit, Lou,” Harry groans, his hand moving faster around his cock, wanking firmly as he positions himself kneeled in front of Louis, his length, proudly dripping and straining, red and _beautiful_ has Louis’ breath stuttering with how much he wants to touch it.

Harry moans loudly, starting to throb his hips, fucking into his hand, his eyes not tearing away from Louis’ body, going from his jaw, down his neck and then settling back on his collarbones. Harry pumps his hips into his fist a few more times, speeding up his hand so fast Louis can only see the blurry movement of it, his eyes too focused on its head.

With the hand that’s not on his cock reaches out to grab a fistful of Louis’ hair, pulling him closer to his cock, settling him in place, making the singer whimper when he sees as Harry starts to lose control, throwing his head back in a groan as he _comes_.

“Baby, _fuck_ , you look so pretty for me baby, _shit, Lou_ , I–, _ah_ …,” Harry cries out, rambling as he continues wanking, the pace of his hand slowing down as spurting hot come all over Louis’ collarbones, strings of white standing out against the singer’s tanned skin. Louis just looks up at him in reverence, watching as Harry’s beautiful face contorts in pleasure, his eyes half lidded as he bites his bottom lip, struggling to keep his eyes open but wanting to stare at the place where he’s marking Louis up.

Louis feels hot all over, the steaky feeling of Harry’s load over his chest, dripping slowly downwards, covering his tummy with thick puddles of it. Harry looks at him with a proud smile, his eyes unfocused and hazy as he cradles some of his come from Louis’ abdomen with his fingers, moving them up deliberately slow, spreading it over Louis’ lips with a look of hunger in his eyes.

Louis feels near tears, letting out a strangled noise as he licks the come off his lips, savouring the expression on Harry’s face as he does so.

Harry manoeuvres himself carefully over Louis, leaning in to press a soft kiss on his mouth; it’s innocent and _so different_ from everything they just did Louis can’t help the tear that slides down his cheek as he returns the kiss. He feels so _happy_ , so content with the man in front of him, it overwhelms him, a gulp settling on his throat with emotion. It’s like nothing he’s ever felt before, this _need_ to be near another person, to make them happy and just to be there for them. Louis doesn’t want this feeling to end, and he doubts if it ever will with Harry, he can’t see himself getting tired of him, ever.

They continue kissing in peace, tranquillity settling on Louis’ body as their lips brush together. There are butterflies flying on his stomach, happiness spreading over every inch on his skin, a swift melody playing in the back of his mind as Harry moves his mouth, pressing gentle and short pecks on Louis’ cheeks; staring at the corner of his mouth, traveling along his cheeks, nosing over his cheekbones as he continues to kiss all over Louis’ face. The singer lets out a happy giggle when he feels Harry’s tongue intertwining licks with his kisses; the sound that had been so foreign to him before now becoming a sign of his time with the man he’s head over heels for, and he fucking loves it.

Louis lets another giggle escape from his lips when Harry kisses him on the mouth again, giving him one last peck before pulling away.

“Going to clean you up, baby,” Harry says, getting out of the bed and walking towards the door which Louis assumes leads to the bathroom. He comes back only seconds later, holding a damped flannel in between his fingers.

He sets one of his knees on the bed, leaning over to wipe down the come off of Louis’ chest. Once he’s satisfied with his work, Louis completely clean under him, Harry nudges his nose with his own, pressing a kiss on his lips before walking back to the bathroom to throw the flannel on the sink.

Harry walks back into the room, striding to his dresser where he takes out a pair of joggers and a shirt, which he offers to Louis. He accepts happily, not keen on putting on his uncomfortable jeans again, especially not when his mind and body are still on a sex-haze. He changes quickly, watching as Harry does the same, getting out of his jeans and putting on a pair of pyjama pants and a hoodie.

When they’re ready, they get back on the bed, their bodies moving unconsciously towards the other, their limbs tangling around each other easily, fitting like pieces into place as Harry covers them with a blanket.

Louis watches Harry going through the different titles on Netflix, the remote on his hand falling a couple of times as Harry starts to doze off. Louis gently takes it from him, putting on a random romantic movie that Harry had been eyeing, before throwing it to the side, resting his hand on Harry’s waist. They watch the movie in a comfortable silence, although Louis is sure Harry is struggling to keep his eyes open.

After a while, he feels Harry wriggling in his arms, getting closer.

“Can you stay over?” Harry mumbles, his voice rough and sleepy as he nuzzles into Louis’ neck.

“Yeah,” he says.

And it should be a hard decision; he should feel more guarded, more reluctant to spend a night at the place of a guy he just started seeing. _God,_ they’re not even official, does Harry think they’re exclusive? He wants to be exclusive with him.

Louis tilts his head to look at Harry; the man has his eyes closed, his breath skimming over Louis’ neck, giving him goose bumps. He thumbs over Harry’s forehead, gently moving away the curls that have fallen on his face blocking his view, he leans in to press a kiss on Harry’s temple, sighing contently when Harry tightens his hold on him, pressing his body closer.

“Lou?” Harry whispers breaking the silence, his face pressed against Louis’ neck.

“Yeah?” he whispers back, twisting one of his curls in his finger.

“Don’t do this with anyone else, please?”

Louis sighs in relief, his lips finding their own way to press a kiss on Harry’s forehead.

“I won’t, H, I promise,” he says sincerely, burying his nose in Harry’s hair, inhaling the calming smell of his curls as the man’s hold on him loosens.

He listens as Harry’s breathing pattern evens out, the rise and fall of his chest against Louis’ side indicating that he’s finally fallen asleep. Louis lays awake, counting the seconds in between each of Harry’s breaths, tapping with his fingers following the rhythm of each of his heart beats. The melody that had been on the back of his mind earlier coming back, lyrics following suit as Harry squirms in his arms, nuzzling closer into his neck.

 _All I can do is say that these arms were made for holding you_.

_So, kiss me where I lay down_

_My hands pressed to your cheeks_

He reaches with one of his hand towards the nightstand next to Harry’s bed where he had left his phone when he arrived. He puts it on night mode to keep the light from disturbing Harry’s sleep; he opens his notes app, quickly typing down the words as he tangles his feet in between Harry’s legs.

He then texts Zayn asking him to schedule a session for the next day, which receives a fast answer as a thumbs up emoji. He settles the phone back on the nightstand and turns his body around, getting comfortable on the bed, his back facing Harry, curling himself under his hold in a little spoon position. He intertwines his fingers with Harry’s, resting their hands on his tummy, keeping him warm.

Louis closes his eyes, finally allowing himself to sleep; the arms of his boy around him grounding him in place, keeping him safe. His last thought is how he never wants to know what it’s like to live without this feeling.

⤜ H ⤛

Harry misses Louis.

It’s stupid because it’s only been three days since the last time he had the blue-eyed man pressed against his chest, his nose buried in his soft hair as his fingers drew shapes in the small curve of Louis’ back, tightening his hold on his waist every time the singer squirmed in his sleep.

They’ve been seeing each other for a bit over a month, spending as much time together as they can.

Most of the time they’re at the bookstore, Harry’s nose buried on a book, sitting on the couch in his reading nook as Louis writes on his notebook next to him, stopping every few sentences to kiss Harry’s temple or run his fingers through his long hair. Other times they’re at Harry’s apartment, their feet tangled together as they watch trash TV, the weather in London forcing them to stay inside as the autumnal, windy October days change into rain as November begins to creep in.

They don’t complain, though. The weather allows them to enjoy the beginning of their relationship by themselves, only letting into their small bubble the people they want.

It makes Harry’s mind go fuzzy every time he thinks about it; he’s in a _relationship_ , he’s dating the most amazing man he’s ever met and he’s happier than he’s ever been. Louis fills every empty space in Harry’s life –empty spaces he never knew he had– with his jokes and sarcasm, the singer’s feelings and reactions so pure it makes Harry feel the need to protect him from everything.

It had been just last week when Harry’s instincts had been put to test.

Louis had picked him up with Clifford at the bookstore that evening, driving them to a big park Harry had never been to before. They walked around until they found a space concealed enough to allow them to enjoy the afternoon together; Louis had brought a blanket and a picnic basket with him, smiling bashfully as Harry’s cheek heated up, colouring a pretty shade of pink.

“I hope you like my sandwich choice,” Louis said as he took out a pair of sandwiches from the basket, opening one gently and offering it to Harry.

“I’m sure I’ll love it,” he said, leaning in to kiss _his boyfriend_ (would he ever get used to have this beautiful man as a boyfriend?) on the lips. Harry pulled away after a while, embarrassed by how much a kiss from Louis affected him.

They ate and chattered comfortably, Clifford running around them happily, only coming over to drink some of the water Louis had put on a bowl for him. Louis was telling him about how excited he was about the new music he’d been working on –Harry usually teasing him saying _I thought you told me you didn’t have any inspiration, Louis_ , with the sole purpose to see the way his boyfriend blushed and stuttered to give him an answer– when Harry noticed the group of young girls seated close to them in the grass.

“Huh, Lou?” Harry asked when he saw one of the girls take out her phone and point it ‘sneakily’ at them.

“Yes, baby?” Louis said, unbothered by the interruption, his undivided attention focused on Harry.

“Huh, I think that girl wants a picture with you,” he said, tilting his head pointedly n the direction of the group of girls. 

Louis turned his head towards them, making the girls squeak in excitement.

“Shit,” he breathed out, “I’m sorry, love, I guess it’s best if we go now, yeah?” he said, and he had looked so _upset_ it broke Harry’s heart.

“Hey, no,” Harry rushed out; he took one of Louis’ hands in between his own, as he locked their eyes, “Lou, baby, I get it, okay? This is your job, and you _love it_ , babe, I can see it every time you write when we’re together, and even if you haven’t shown me any of the stuff you’re currently working on, I know it’ll be amazing, babe, this is just a part of your job, and I freaking love your job, Lou,” he rambled on sincerely, wanting to make Louis realize that he really didn’t mind. “I love it because it makes you so happy, and I love seeing you happy”.

“Okay, yeah, sorry,” Louis said, he looked overwhelmed and was staring at Harry with a bewildered expression. “I just…,” he shook his head, trying to collect his thought. It was something he did quite frequently, Harry had realized, and he’d learned to hold his hand and wait patiently for him to continue, “I guess I’m just not used to _not_ apologizing for it, like, no one has ever made me feel like this part of my job is something good, I guess? It’s just something they had to endure, they made it feel like it was a burden to go out with me, and I think I’m scared it’ll be the same for you”.

Harry didn’t need to ask who _they_ are, he knew, but he also knew this was better than anything he’d ever had before, and he’d be dammed if he didn’t do everything in his power to hold on to it.

“I’m not them, baby,” he said earnestly, “we’re different”.

Louis looked up at him, his eyes shining brightly as he leaned in to give a gentle kiss on Harry’s cheek. “Yeah, we’re different”.

They had decided to leave the park shortly after that, Louis nodded politely when the girls rushed after them to ask for a picture. He took the time with all three of them, thanking them when they tell him how excited they are for the new music and how much they loved the last album.

Harry stood next to him all the time, holding onto Clifford’s leash as Louis posed for pictures, feeling an unfamiliar yet pleasant sense of pride starting to rise on his chest every time Louis threw him a furtive look, almost trying to make sure that Harry was still there with him.

They walked hand in hand back to the entrance of the park, making small talk as they headed back to Louis’ car, making plans to drive back to Harry’s place and get Chinese take-out.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Louis mumbled once they’d reached the sidewalk. Harry followed his gaze, his eyes widening when he saw the group of paparazzies surrounding Louis’ car. “Those girls must’ve said where I was”.

“Lou?” Harry asked, confused. Not sure how to react he’d tried to let go of Louis’ hand, but he only gripped more tightly.

“Just ignore them, okay babe?” Louis said, he turned to look at Harry briefly. “You put Clifford into the backseat and walk straight to your seat, I don’t want them pushing you”.

“Okay,” he said as he looked down, he was determined to ignore them, they would get in the drive and that was it. He could do it.

Turned out he couldn’t. As soon as the paparazzies spotted Louis, they lunged forwards, crossing the street towards them, the flashes from their cameras bothering Harry even though his sight was glued to the ground.

“Louis! Look over here, mate,” one of them said as he stood in front of Louis, “C’mon Tommo”.

“Excuse me, mate,” he heard Louis saying as he tugged on Harry’s hand to keep him close.

“Is that your new boyfriend, Tommo?” another one of them asked, following them closely as they walked to the car.

“C’mon Louis, look over here”

“Are your fans getting a new album soon, Louis?”

“How long have you been dating?”

“Louis! Louis!”

As soon as they reached the car Harry yanked open the back door, letting Clifford jump inside, quickly closing the door behind the dog. The paparazzies were all over Louis as he opened the door for the driver’s seat, trying to get their cameras close to his face.

“Oi,” Harry said when he saw one of them pushing Louis, trying to keep the door from closing; he reached with one of his hands, unconsciously grabbing a hold of Louis’ waist to steady him and help him inside the car. He looked at the pap with a frown in his face, “fuck off, mate”.

He closed Louis’ door slowly, some of the paparazzies following him as he made his way around the car towards his own seat.

Louis stared at him with an indecipherable glint on his eyes when Harry was finally seated beside him. He started the car and drove away, the silhouettes of the men becoming tinier in the rear view mirror. Harry had briefly wondered if that look on Louis’ eyes meant he’d done something wrong, that maybe he fucked up and should’ve kept quiet like he’d asked him to. As soon as they entered Harry’s apartment and Louis pushed against the door, sinking to his knees in front of him undoing the buttons of his jeans, all his nervousness dissipated.

“That,” Louis said as he pulled down Harry’s trousers, letting them fall around his ankles, “that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen”.

Harry had felt his heart stutter at those words, the tightness in his chest dissolving as he tangled his fingers on Louis’ hair. The boy kneeled in front of him licked his lips expectantly.

“Yeah?” he asked airily.

“Uh huh,” Louis hums, taking Harry’s half hard cock in his hands, “I think you deserve a reward”.

He looked up at Harry with a playful glimmer in his eyes. _God,_ Harry should definitely get protective more frequently.

-

The store’s doorbell rings as Niall walks in, pulling Harry out of his memories. Ever since he and Louis started seeing each, he’s had less time to spend with his friends after work, something they _love_ to remind him every chance they have. He really tries to split his attention between them, but he can’t help but want to spend every free minute he has with Louis, especially when Louis goes to the store to just _be_ with Harry, even if they’re both doing their own thing, they’re together; and Harry loves that.

“Hello, stranger,” Niall says, approaching the counter where Harry has been working on the store’s countability.

“Hey, Nialler,” he sighs, checking the negative balance one last time before closing his laptop. “How are you?”

“Better than you apparently,” his friend says, eyeing Harry carefully. “Are you okay, Haz? Are things with Louis not going great? Do Liam and I need to teach him a lesson?”

Harry huffs out a laugh, “you better teach a lesson to my bills,” he mumbles, blushing in embarrassment. He hates admitting when he has money problems, especially to his friends.

“Oh,” Niall frowns as he looks at Harry walking around the counter to greet him with a small hug, “you know you can ask if you need anything, Harry”.

“I know,” he says as they pull apart. “It’s just a bad month, and it’s not even that bad, I can afford everything that I need… I guess I’m just disappointed that I couldn’t make it as great as I wanted to”.

Niall hums, “you can’t blame yourself over people not reading, H”.

“I know, I know,” he says, walking towards the door, Niall following closely behind him.

They’re going out for lunch with Liam as usual, something they haven’t done much since Louis likes to pay him a visit at the store almost every day. When had Louis texted him last night saying they wouldn’t be able to see each other today –for the third day in a row, _god he misses him_ – he’d immediately texted his friends proposing lunch, which they had happily accepted.

“Would you look at that, if it isn’t that our missing friend!” Liam says as soon as they meet him on the streets, he’s throwing his arms in the air as if he’s witnessing a miracle. Harry rolls his eyes.

“Shut up,” he grumbles, wrapping his arms around Liam in a tight hug. His friend pats his back as he chuckles.

“Not gonna lie, mate,” he says as they pull apart, a warm smile on his lips making him look even more like a human puppy, “I was surprised when you texted us last night. Haven’t seen your face in a while!”

“He’s already replaced us for a pretty boy,” Niall chimes in, joking as they walk towards their favourite restaurant that’s a couple of blocks away.

“Hey…,” he complains, pouting slightly as he looks at his friends apologetically. “I’m sorry, it’s just, with Louis and all,” he says, feeling his cheeks flushing as he mentions the man who steals all his thoughts, “dunno, I guess I’ve been a shitty friend lately, ’m sorry”.

“It’s alright, Haz, we get it, you’re in love,” Liam says, making Harry flush deeper at his statement. He continues without giving him a chance to correct him, “we’re happy that you’re happy, and if he’s the one putting that dopey smile on your face then I’m glad. You deserve it”.

“You have to introduce us, by the way,” Niall continues, nodding at Liam’s words. “You’ve been dating for, like, three weeks”.

“Four,” Harry corrects automatically, making Niall snort.

“Worse! You’ve been dating a for a month, Harry, and we haven’t met him yet,” Niall complains, pouting dramatically as he hides his face on Harry’s shoulder, shaking his face as he fake cries.

Harry pushes him away, laughing.

“You’ll meet him,” he tells them, moving his eyes from Niall to Liam, “don’t want to jinx it yet”.

“Don’t think you can jinx it even if you wanted to, mate,” Liam says laughing, “he comes by almost every day, don’t think we haven’t noticed”.

“Where is he by the way?” Niall asks, frowning as they finally enter the restaurant, quickly deciding to take a seat inside as it seems like it may rain again. Welcome to November. “Haven’t seen hm walking around the store lately”.

“He’s at the studio,” he explains, smiling politely at the waitress who hands them the menu, “he’s working on his album, so he’s gone to the studio almost every day this week for that. Apparently, he’s a perfectionist and needs everything to sound _just_ the way he wants to, and that, apparently, takes hours,” he rolls his eyes fondly as he explains, thinking back to a phone call they had a couple of days ago, with Louis complaining about how the guitarists he was working with that day couldn’t get the right tempo.

 _“I swear they have no idea what timing is, Harold!_ ”, he’d said, making Harry cackle loudly, almost making him spill the tea he’d been holding.

“Sounds like he’s busy,” Liam comments, smiling knowingly at Harry.

Harry hums in agreement as the waitress approaches, paper and note in hand ready to take their order.

The truth is, Louis really was busy. A couple of days ago he had finally managed to push back the deadlines he had with his label, who allowed him to get another month of writing sessions before having to present at least half of his album ready. Louis is finally writing again –something Harry takes great proud of as Louis likes to remind him that he’s the inspiration behind every song– and he really wants to get it right, he wants everything to be just perfect.

Harry tells him that he’s wonderful, that he’s happy Louis is finally doing what he loves again, even if he won’t let Harry actually listen to it.

If he’s being honest, it does bother him a bit. He wants to be able to tell Louis that his music is wonderful, but his boyfriend always tells him that he’s too nervous to show them to him, especially when they’re not finished. Harry tells them that he already loves them, because he knows he will when he gets to listen to them –he has his old albums on repeat, for god’s sake, of course he’s going to love the one he’s working on right now–, but he doesn’t pressure, he wants Louis to show him his songs when he’s ready.

“You’re so smitten,” Niall says, snickering. “I wish you could see your face when you’re talking about him, mate, proper heart eyes and all”.

“Shut up,” he pushes Niall’s arm playfully, his cheeks turning scarlet.

They eat in silence, making Harry realize how much he’d actually missed his friends. He makes a mental note to start eating with them again more frequently, he doesn’t want to be the type of guy who leaves all his friends behind for his boyfriend. Liam updates him on his relationship with Sophia, sliding when he makes a comment about looking at _engagement rings_ which earns him a pair of incredulous looks and having to explain. Harry is happy for him, as much as they tease him, he’s happy that he’s friend has finally found the person he wants to spend his life with, someone who loves him in the same way he loves her.

Then Niall talks about his family and how excited he is that he’ll finally be able to see all of them for Christmas. He explains in great detail all the logistics of flying them to London and how they’re all going to fit in his apartment, which is only a little bit bigger than Harry’s.

Talking about Christmas and family makes him think about having to spend the holidays on his own, as his own family will be away, and Louis will probably travel back to Doncaster to spend it with his’. He shakes his head, focusing his attention back on Niall; there’s still over a month until Christmas, he has plenty of time to get sad about it later.

The rest of their lunch passes by calmly, the time going by fast in between jokes and their much required catch up. They split the bill easily and start walking back to their shops, Harry anxious for the day to be over soon so he can call Louis.

“Hey,” Liam says when they reach the entrance to Harry’s store, pulling him for a tight hug, “don’t be a stranger, we miss you”.

“I won’t,” he whispers into his friend’s shoulder, moving away to hug Niall as well, mumbling similar words to him.

He waves goodbye at his friends and enters his store, smiling happily when a costumer enters not many minutes later. The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur, in between costumers that come to buy or just look and him seating on the reading nook with a book about the evolution of gay rights in the west.

Harry’s just stepping into his apartment when his phone buzzes with an incoming message. He rushes to open it, already knowing who it’s from.

_Just finished the day!_

He smiles, looking at the contact picture of Louis sleeping on his couch as he types back, **yay! How did it go? Miss you xx**

_Good, writing wasn’t great, but we worked on the production aspect so that was nice_

_One of my friends is throwing a party tonight, wanna come? Really want them to meet you !_

Harry frowns, chewing on his bottom lip

 **Not sure I’m made for that, Lou** , he sends, running a nervous hand through his curls. Louis’ answer comes before he has a chance to think about what he’s doing.

_For a party?_

Harry reads the message over, walking towards his bed where he throws himself on top of. _For your friends_ , he thinks self-consciously, biting on his nails.

 _It’ll just be my friends, babe_ , Louis’ text insists.

And _exactly_ , it’ll be Louis’ industry friends, the ones who have probably met Louis’ previous boyfriends, they’re people who he doesn’t fit with, people who’ll be able to read through him as soon as they see the cheap clothes he wears and how he doesn’t have the same experiences as them, he doesn’t have the same amount of miles on his body to be like them. He’s never left England for Christ’s sake.

Another message comes through.

_And I miss you_

_Haven’t seen you in days H_

**I’m just tired baby,** Harry decides to send.

He feels like shit for lying to Louis, he should be able to tell him how he feels. Maybe he’s just waiting for his boyfriend to realize that _this_ makes no sense, that as much as they seem to be perfect for each other, people won’t see it that way. They’ll see him standing next to Louis and they’ll wonder how Louis could settle for someone like himself, when he could and should have someone much better.

_Okay, babe, take care xx_

_but can I come over the store tomorrow? I really miss you_

**Yes please** , he sends back quickly, tears prickling in his eyes. He puts his phone down on the night table, ignoring the new messages that come, the constant buzzing reminding him that Louis _cares_ , that this is just him and his insecurities.

He gives in after the fifth text, reaching for his phone and smiling when he sees the picture Louis just sent him. It’s a selfie of him and Clifford in what Harry assumes it’s his bed; Louis is wearing a comfy-looking hoodie, the duvet covering most of his body, only showing from his face, the smile on his face sending soothing waves to his insides, reciprocating the smile even though Louis can’t see it. He saves the picture to his gallery, staring once again of Louis’ face squeezed against Clifford’s.

_My night’s company_

_We miss you!!_

_Sleep tight, love xx_

He sets his phone on his nightstand again, making sure to press play on his latest played album on his music app, going to sleep with the sound of Louis’ voice coming from his speakers.

-

Harry wakes up the next day with a slight headache. It’s a normal occurrence to him whenever he cries or gets worked up over something, and even though the picture Louis sent him last night helped to get his thoughts back to a happy place, it still didn’t stop his body’s reaction to the situation.

He drags himself reluctantly out of bed, grumping as he walks towards the bathroom to take a quick shower. He lets the water cleanse his mind and body, trying to clean the pain away from his mind. Harry thinks about his mindset from the previous night, how anxious and on edge he’d felt at the thought of going out with Louis’ friends, something which should’ve come naturally after seeing each other for more than a month, but for some reason it filled Harry with apprehension and self-consciousness.

Of course, it wasn’t the first time the thought had popped in his head. Ever since that first time Louis asked him out for a coffee on the day they’d met, Harry has wondered _why, why him._ How was it possible that he could catch the eye of someone like Louis, someone as beautiful, gentle, and successful as Louis.

He really tries his best to stop this type of thoughts from invading his mind, but it’s inevitable when every relationship he’s ever had has ended up on the same: him being dumped with a broken heart. He wonders how long it’ll be until Louis realizes that he’s not worth it, if he’ll ever realize. He tries to listen to the rational voice inside his head, saying that Louis it’s different, that there’s no way everything he feels towards the singer is one-sided, that Louis’ eyes can’t lie in the pure adoration with which he looks at him. Still, it’s hard to be rational when he hasn’t seen his boyfriend in days and he _really_ misses him.

Harry steps out of the shower and goes to his bedroom, trying to focus his mind on the fact that he’ll finally see Louis today, that he’ll get to kiss him and hug him like he’s been dreading for the past few days. He puts on his favourite lilac sweater, with a pair of black skinny jeans and a green bandana to hold the loose curls that fall over his eyes as he puts the rest of his hair in a bun; Louis loves it when he has his hair in a bun, even if he complains about not being able to run his fingers through it.

He eats a simple breakfast, not really hungry due to his headache and the lump of excitement that has settled of his stomach. The throb in his head has eased now, but he still takes an aspirin to prevent it from coming back during the day.

The way to the bookstore is fast and boring, the tube being too full find an empty space to read, so he just stands in a corner waiting for his station to come into view. He walks through the park nearby, taking a bit of a longer way but smiling at all the memories he’s gathered with Louis in this park; walking together hand in hand on their way to Harry’s apartment, sitting at one of the picnic tables, their bodies pressed together, trying to stay warm as the wind blew around them.

The morning at the store passes by as usual, a few costumers coming in and out, Harry eagerly looking up every time the door’s bell rings, smiling to them through the sinking disappointment every time he realizes it’s not Louis who walked through the door just yet. It’s only after lunch, around three in the afternoon, when he looks up to meet the eyes of the man he can’t stop thinking about.

Louis is wearing one of Harry’s sweaters, which he probably took a few days ago when he’d stayed the night at his place. It makes Harry smile the way his boyfriend looks at him, his entire face lighting up as he walks towards the counter to meet him, not even bothering to look around if anyone is in the store; he looks just as desperate to hold him in his arms as Harry is.

Fortunately, the store it’s completely empty, so Harry doesn’t feel any shame at how quickly he jumps out of his seat and walks around the counter towards Louis.

“Hey, Haz,” Louis says, when they’re finally in front of each other.

Harry cups his face between his hands, leaning to press a soft kiss to his boyfriend’s lips.

“Hey, baby,” he says as they pull apart.

“God, I’ve missed you,” Louis says, smiling shyly at Harry, sliding his hands under Harry’s coat and around his waist, pulling him closer until their chests are only a few centimetres apart. Happiness blossoms in Harry’s chest as Louis rests his face on his shoulder, pressing a light, innocent kiss under his jaw. “How’s your week been, babe?”

Harry sallows around the gulp in his throat, “good, good, I had lunch with the lads yesterday,” he says, guiding Louis to sit in the reading nook, “but other than that it’s been good and boring, I’ve missed you”.

“I’ve missed you too,” Louis presses a kiss on his cheek, his fingers curling around Harry’s nape and starts scratching his hair gently. “I wanted to come over earlier today, but the session went on for longer than planned”.

“It’s alright, Lou, I’m just glad you’re here”.

“I’m glad too,” Louis says, his fingers still playing with Harry’s hair, and Harry’s sure he’ll end up loosening his bun, “I wanted to invite you for a fancy date after you closed off the store, but–”

“I don’t need a fancy date,” he interrupts, but Louis just rolls his eyes fondly at him, ignoring his remark.

“ _But,_ ” he says looking at him intently, “I was wondering if you’d like to come over to my place? I’m kind of tired so we can have a rain check on the fancy date, because, _yes_ , before you interrupt me, I _am_ taking you to one, but right now all I can think about is cuddling with you in the couch and hopefully you’re staying over?”

“Sure,” Harry says, his throat gone dry even though he feigns calm; he’s never been in Louis’ house before, as they always end up going to Harry’s or just seeing each other in the park or the store, and for some reason it cripples him with anxiety. “Do you want me to cook something for dinner?”

“Not gonna invite you over so you can cook for me, love,” Louis laughs, “we can order something in”.

“Okay,” Harry sighs, burying his face on Louis’ neck and pressing a kiss on his shoulder.

He breathes in the soothing smell of Louis’ fragrance, his mind chanting relentlessly _he’s here, he’s here, he’s here_. It takes Harry by surprise how easy it is to forget about all his insecurities when he has Louis’ warmth around him, how easy it is to just be with him. he desperately wants it to be like that all the time.

They stay silent for a while. Harry running his fingertips over Louis’ thighs, drawing shapes and random words in them as his boyfriend finally undoes Harry’s bun and starts to run his hands freely through his hair, tangling on his curls every once in a while, but he always takes the time to detangle them gently.

“I wrote you a song today,” Louis breaks the silence, sitting up slowly as he starts to make small braids in Harry’s hair.

“Yeah?” he breathes out, a smile curling his lips.

“More than one, actually”.

“Are you going to sing it for me?” he asks, even though he knows the answer already.

Louis tilts his head to throw him a knowing look. “No”.

Harry chuckles, shaking his head as he leans to press a kiss on his boyfriend’s forehead.

“Am I ever going to hear what you’re working on?”

“Yeah,” Louis says, centring his attention on the braids he was making once again.

“When,” Harry pushes, digging his teeth on his bottom lip to hold back a smile.

“When the album comes out”.

Harry laughs and pushes Louis away, standing up from the couch and walking away from the reading nook. He turns off his computer, feeling Louis’ eyes on him following his every move. He turns around and starts walking towards the door.

“Babe?” he hears Louis calling behind him. “Where are you going?”

“Closing off early,” Harry says, smiling as he looks at Louis. “Aren’t you coming?”

Louis jolts up, practically running to catch up with Harry at the door. Louis’ face is lightened with joy, his smile so wide it forms crinkles by his eyes, the blue in them in which Harry gets lost in almost unseeable. _He’s so pretty_.

They walk to Louis’ house hand in hand, since it’s fairly close to Harry’s store they decide against taking a cab, instead choosing to make small talk on their way, Harry listening intently as Louis tells him about the process of the new album, and Harry tells him in return about the latest book he read.

Harry’s voice trails off as they stop in front of Louis’ house, his mind too focused taking in every single detail of the _mansion_ in front of him. He follows his boyfriend quietly into the house, the foyer it’s almost as big as Harry’s living room, the ceiling adorned with big wooden beams that guide his eyesight towards the different rooms in the house. A huge staircase towards the right of the foyer breaks the view, clearly making a division between the common areas of the house and the living areas of it. Harry is struck dumb by finally seeing the reality of how _different_ his and Louis’ lives are.

“Wow,” he breathes out at a loss of what to say.

“Yeah,” Louis mumbles, letting go of Harry’s hand to take help him get out of his coat. “It’s a big too big, but I–, huh, yeah”.

Harry looks at his boyfriend dumbly, _is he nervous?_

Before he gets a chance to ask, there’s a loud bark and the sound of four paws scratching against the wooden floor.

“Hey, boy,” he says excitedly, dropping to his knees to let Clifford lick his cheeks as he pets him on the back. “It’s been a while, right?”

Harry laughs as Louis sinks to his knees beside him, both of them gently scratching Clifford, their eyes meeting over the dog’s head.

It hits Harry like a ton of bricks. This is not his place, he thinks as he looks around the foyer once again, this is just a small fantasy he’s been living in for the past month, but he needs to wake up. Louis is too much, he’s too perfect, and Harry doesn’t deserve him.

He stands up slowly, his boyfriend following his movement and he reaches for his coat which is still on Louis’ hands.

“Babe?” Louis asks, frowning when Harry tugs at his coat, but Louis only holds it tighter on his grip.

“I–,” he clears his throat, “I think I should go”.

“What?”

“Yeah, I–, I’m not feeling great”.

Louis’ frown deepens, he takes a step closer to Harry, but Harry hurriedly takes a step back, away from him; he immediately regrets it when he sees the hurt look on Louis’ eyes.

“Sorry,” Harry rushes to say, “I just–, I’m–”.

“Haz?” Louis raises his hand cautiously, stopping himself when he sees Harry cringing away, “what can I do, love? Please tell me, I just–, I want to help you, do you want me to make you soup or something? We can cuddle in the couch and I promise I won’t talk, I just want to help, please, babe”.

Harry fills his eyes filling with tears. He truly doesn’t deserve him

“I’m sorry,” his voice wobbles, as he tries to speak over the lump on his throat, “I’m sorry I don’t know why I’m getting so upset I just–, I’m sorry, you deserve better, Lou”.

“Love, what is it?” Louis asks, his eyes desperate, “this isn’t the first time you’ve said something like that, babe, as if you think I’m out of your league or something and I just don’t understand w–”.

“Well, you are,” he cuts him off, unable to stop the tears that slip from his eyes.

“Harry, what?”

“Do you seriously not see it?” he asks astonished, ignoring the way Louis tries to reach for him again. “Louis, you are… you’re so bloody beautiful, you’re so caring and sweet, and you–, you’re so successful and you can afford so many nice things, and I… and here I am, counting coins to pay the rent and groceries… I can’t even treat myself to a new shirt every once in a while, because I don’t know if I’ll be able to pay all of my bills the next month,” he takes a deep breath, averting his eyes from Louis’ when his voice breaks. “You’re so amazing, and I–, I’m so,” he runs a hand through his face to clean off the tears that have been silently rolling down his cheeks, “I just don’t see how you can be happy settling for me when you can have anyone else you want”.

“You think being with you means that I’m settling?” Louis’ voice sounds as if he’d been punched in the gut. It breaks Harry’s heart.

He nods reluctantly, still not meeting Louis’ eyes.

“Just look at me,” he points at himself.

“I am,” Louis whispers, hesitantly taking another step closer, this time Harry doesn’t move away. “You truly don’t see how amazing you are, do you?” Harry shrugs, letting Louis hold his hand, “once I set my eyes on you, it’s physically impossible for me to look away, love, you’re so beautiful and I–, I could never be _settling_ by being with you, because being with you it’s all I ever wanted”.

“What do you mean?” he asks, his voice still tight and hoarse.

“I mean that I could never ask for a better person to be with, H,” he explains, “you’re so perfect for me, like, _all the time_ , you like me for who I am, Haz, I don’t think you understand how important that is to me. You’ve never once pressured me to do something, you don’t pressure me to show you the songs I’m working on, even though I know you want to know; you’ve never once asked to come to my house, like, you’re just happy to be with me no matter what, you don’t care if it’s in your flat or the store or wherever, and I–,” Louis takes a deep breath, intertwining his fingers with Harry’s before continuing. “You never ask for too much and that only makes me want to give you more, everything”.

“I don’t want you to give me anything other than your heart,” Harry says honestly, tears still streaming down his face, “I just–, I feel like I don’t much to give you in return, and you deserve so much, Lou”.

“I wish that you could see my point of view, babe,” he says, thumbing over Harry’s cheeks, erasing the tail of tears with his gentle touch, “I’m staring back at you right now, and all I can think about is perfect you are, how perfect we are for each other. Even when your tears are falling down, you’re perfect, love”.

“I’m just waiting for you to realize you deserve better and–”.

“I don’t think I deserve anything, Harry,” Louis cuts him off, his voice as gentle as his hands, “I don’t have a right to your love, nor do you have a right to mine, we have the _choice_ to love, Haz. I’ve made the choice to be with you, I want to be the best partner I can for you, just like you are the best partner I could’ve ever asked for, but it’s always a choice between the two of us. If you want to be with me as much as I want to be with you then that’s the only thing that matters. I want us to fight, and to be faithful, and to be honest and to cry in each other arms, but I want it to be _us_ , I want you Harry”.

Harry lets out a noise, it’s somewhere between a sob and a relieved laugh, and it makes Louis place both of his hands in Harry’s face, cradling it carefully. His mind is fuzzy with a thousand thoughts that are mingling together, his head playing back Louis’ words, trying to make sense of all of them, slowly coming to the realisation that maybe Louis is right, maybe. In the midst of it all there’s only one thing he knows for sure.

“I want you too,” he says.

Louis sighs in what can only be described as relief. “Then that’s all I need,” he says, “we can work on everything else together, your things and my things, as long as we both know that we want to be together”.

They stay in the foyer in silence for a few minutes, clinging at each other as they try to tame their emotions again.

“Babe?” Louis breaks the silence, tugging at Harry’s hand and leading him towards the living room. He feels too tired to notice the details in the room and instead allows himself to be guided by his boyfriend to sit on the couch.

“Yeah?”

“Is this why you didn’t want to go out with my friends last night?”

“I–,” he starts to say, his cheeks flushing.

“I don’t mind if it is,” Louis interrupts him, probably noticing the way Harry’s heart started racing again. “I just want to understand, H, I want to do my best for you, I want you to be comfortable in this, and I can’t do that if I don’t know why it bothers you”.

Harry takes a deep breath, placing his hand over Louis’ thigh. “Yeah, this is why, I mean, it was the same reason”.

“Can I ask why you feel this way?”

“You just did,” Harry sniggers, making Louis snort.

“You know what I meant”.

“Yeah,” he breathes out as he leans back on the couch, taking Louis with him and fitting the smaller man against his chest, the smell of his hair soothing Harry. “Have I told you that I used to date a lot in university?” he waits for Louis’ hum before continuing, “well, obviously none of those relationships worked out, and I always used to put on a brave face, you know? I think even Niall and Liam believe that I was okay and ready to move on to the next one because they were all casual flings.

“And I’m imagining they weren’t?” Louis asks against Harry’s chest, “casual I mean”.

“No, they were,” he says, “they were casual, and to be honest I don’t even remember clearly about all of them, but… it still hurt. I didn’t hurt me to lose _them_ , but it hurt that I wasn’t what they wanted, I guess, like, I just wanted to be _it_ for someone so bad, for someone to be head over heels about me and it hurt that I never was, it made me feel like that was never going to be in the cards for me, and then when I graduated and stopped dating it just confirmed it for me,” Harry pauses, trying to organize his thoughts as he presses a kiss at the top Louis’ head, inhaling the smell of his soft hair. “And then I met you and you proved me wrong on every single thing I thought I was certain of”.

“I want to keep doing that,” Louis says, turning his head to look at Harry. “I want you to prove you wrong on everything you just said, and I’m sorry to say this, Harry, but I’m so so _so_ happy nothing worked out with them”.

Harry chuckles, leaning into Louis’ space to peck him on the lips, “I’m happy too, baby, and same goes for you, by the way”.

Louis gasps, “you’re happy I was a single pringle when we met?”

“Definitely happy,” he confirms, smiling widely at Louis.

“Me too,” Louis smiles back at him, “you brought me back my writing, Haz, I don’t think I can ever thank you enough for that”.

Harry blushes as he always does when Louis comments about his writing.

“Says the man who won’t let me hear his songs,” he says, pulling Louis close and burying his face on his neck, nibbling at his pulse point.

“Oi, none of that,” Louis laughs as he pushes him away and stands up. Harry pouts and makes grabby hands at him. “Nope,” he says shaking his head, “I’m going to take care of you now, because I can see that you’re tired and you were crying, love, so, I’m going to feed you, then I’m going to cuddle you, then I’m going to blow you and then we’re going to sleep”.

Harry smiles widely at him. Maybe Louis’ is right, maybe they don’t _deserve_ each other, because maybe love –is this love? Harry’s sure it’s on its way to be– it’s not about deserving but about _choosing_.

“Does that sound like a good plan?” Louis asks when Harry doesn’t answer.

“Hmm,” Harry hums, standing up as well and attaching his hands to Louis’ waist, “I think that sounds like a solid plan, baby”.

“Let’s go then,” Louis makes to walk away but Harry tightens his hold on him, pressing their bodies together.

“But,” he says pointedly, “ _I’m_ going to cook for you, we have to stop ordering in, Lou, I want you to be healthy”.

Louis pouts and he looks so _adorable_ and cuddly wearing Harry’s jumper that he can’t help himself from nuzzling into his neck. Louis positively purrs as Harry noses from his shoulder up until the back of his ear, nibbling on his earlobe.

“Fine,” Louis says, melting into Harry’s touch, “you can cook, but I’ll blow you first”.

Harry laughs, tugging Louis towards the couch again, “not going to complain about that, baby”.

-

It’s only a week later that Harry finds himself rummaging through the mess of clothes he has splayed over his bed, Louis laughing at him, seating on the tiny corner of the mattress that doesn’t have any item on. Harry sends him daggers with his eyes every time his boyfriend lets out a giggle.

“Haz, it’s just dinner at a pub,” he says, selecting one of the jumpers laying on Harry’s bed and holding it up, “I like this one by the way”.

Harry huffs, “yeah, it’s just dinner at a pub,” he imitates, taking the piece of clothing Louis is offering him and walking towards the mirror as he puts it on, “just dinner at a pub with your best friend who also happens to be your manager”.

Louis rolls his eyes but doesn’t move from the bed.

“Zayn’s chill, love,” he says, his eyes trailing up and down his body. “You’ll like him”.

“Will he like me?” Harry mumbles, staring at his reflection on the mirror.

“He’ll love you because you make me happier than anyone else ever has,” Louis says, standing up and walking to stand by his side. “How do I look?”

Harry inevitably smiles at Louis’ words; he lives for those moments with him. He feels lucky to be able to see this side of his personality, how nervous he gets whenever Harry allows his stare to linger on his body, how fidgety he gets just from Harry’s touch. He’s so _pretty_ , curvy and gorgeous, and Harry supresses a groan at the thought of just staying in, keeping Louis on his bed, pliant and greedy as he devours him for hours and hours.

“You look cute all the time,” he says, his voice honest.

“Oi, I’m not cute,” Louis says, frowning and crossing his arms over his chest; he looks adorable in Harry’s opinion. “I’m rugged and handsome”.

“Whatever you say, baby,” he laughs, pinching Louis’ bum as he goes to grab his favourite coat from the bed. “You ready to go?”

“I feel like I should be asking that,” Louis trails behind him and wraps his arms around Harry’s waist. He feels him pressing a kiss at the back of his neck. “But yeah, I’m ready”.

They finish getting ready in a matter of minutes, in between soft kisses and gentle touches that have Harry really considering staying in for the night, and not only because of his nerves.

Louis pulls out his phone and texts Zayn to let him know that they’ll be there in twenty minutes, making Harry’s anxiety start up again. He tries to sallow it down, putting on a smile and a brave face for his boyfriend to see, even though he’s uneasy underneath. He’s been doing better, though. Since the other day’s conversation where he expressed his insecurities to Louis his boyfriend has been doing everything in his capacity to prove the words to him, to let him know that he’s choosing him and no one else.

It’s the little things, he has noticed; it’s how Louis looks at him when he’s reading with that small little smile adorning his face, it’s how he’ll take a picture of their feet when they’re at the park and post it on Instagram with a green heart as a caption. It’s how he kisses him and how hums a melody Harry’s never heard before as they’re falling asleep. So, yeah, he’s doing better, he slowly starts to believe Louis’ words, especially as he realizes that those words are exactly how he feels.

It’s now that Louis deserves his love – _not love yet_ , his mind reminds mind in a rush, but he knows he’s heading there–, it’s that he _wants_ to give it to Louis, he wants him to have it.

“Haz?” Louis’ voice pulls hm out of his thoughts, and he turns to look at the singer, who’s staring at him from the door. He probably has called Harry more than once.

“Baby?”

“You went all spacey for a second,” he says, smiling fondly at him as he stretches one of his hands, silently asking Harry to take it. 

“Sorry,” he laughs, walking towards Louis and grabbing his hand. “Let’s go”.

Harry guides them outside of his apartment, making sure that he has locked the door correctly before walking to Louis’ car, where his boyfriend opens the door for him. Louis sits on the driver’s seat, connecting his phone to the radio and putting one of his playlists on.

The drive to the pub it’s short, only twenty minutes of Harry laying his hand on Louis’ thigh as he looks out the window until they’re parking outside the small place. Louis had chosen the place, apparently him and Zayn went there a few months ago and became obsessed with it, the drinks where cheap and it had a no-phone policy which really worked out in their favour.

They park outside the pub, Louis easily pointing out Zayn’s car, which is already there, and parking beside it. Harry takes one last deep breath before getting out of the car, hurriedly walking to get next to Louis and grabbing his hand, reaching for the comfort its warmth gives him.

“You alright, love?” Louis asks him as they walk towards the door, his thumb running circles in his hand.

Harry nods but doesn’t say anything, only tightening his hold on Louis’ hand.

The first thing Harry notices it’s how bright Louis smiles when he spots Zayn seated at one of the tables. The knot in his stomach loosens a bit at the sight. He smiles shyly as they walk to the table, concentrating on the feeling of Louis’ hand against his, on how perfect their fingers fit intertwined.

“Hey, Z!” Louis says happily once they reach the table. Louis lets go of his hand for a moment to hug his best friend, patting him a few times on the back before pulling away. He turns to smile at Harry, placing a hand on his waist, gently tugging to move him forwards. “Zayn, this is Harry; love, this is Zayn”.

“Hey, mate,” Zayn says, a warm smile on his lips as he pulls Harry in for a quick hug. “It’s great to finally meet you, lad, Lou can’t shut up about you”.

“Only good things I hope,” Harry says as he feels his cheeks blushing. Louis’ hand which was still on his waist slides down towards his hips where he squeezes gently.

“Of course, Ha–,” Louis says, but Zayn cuts him off with loud laugh.

“Mate, you have him proper smitten,” he says as they take a seat, “it’s always _Harry did this_ , _Harry did that_ , like, we’re all about to push him out of the window by the end of sessions. Think I should thank you for getting him dicked so good, though”.

Harry blushes even more at Zayn’s words, partly because of how much he wishes they were true. They’ve done stuff before, of course, but they’ve never gone further that Harry fingering Louis. It’s not like they don’t want to do it either, it’s just the way things have worked out so far, and he doesn’t mind. He enjoys everything with him.

“Oi!” Louis complains, but his face is a deep shade of red, “we haven’t done that yet, so shut up”.

“From your lyrics it doesn’t sound like that, mate,” Zayn jokes, rolling his eyes at him and raising his eyebrows at Harry.

“How come he’s heard your songs and I haven’t?” Harry pouts, partially teasing and partially serious.

Louis sighs but places his hand on the small of Harry’s back, moving closer to him on the booth, “he’s my manager, love, he can’t not listen to them”.

“Don’t worry, mate,” Zayn says turning to look at Harry with a genuine smile, “if he isn’t showing you his stuff it means he _really_ cares about your opinion. If there’s one thing you want to know about Louis’ writing process it’s that he gets super nervous about showing his non-finished work, especially to the people he cares about. He never shows it to his family either, and now you’ve been added to the list, so count yourself as one of the lucky ones”.

“Thanks, Z,” Louis rolls his eyes teasingly, but Harry catches the honesty in his tone.

“So, Harry, tell why out of all the decent men out there, why would you choose my best mate here? Not to judge you but he’s a bit of a menace,” Zayn says, signalling for the waiter to come. Harry laughs loudly, his long curls falling over his face.

“Are you already trying to turn my boyfriend against me?” Louis says before Harry gets a chance to reply.

Zayn laughs as the waiter arrives with three glasses of beer and a plate of cheese fries Zayn had ordered for them to share.

Conversation comes easily after that. They don’t need to make an effort to keep Harry from feeling left out because everything flows so naturally, just like it always does with anything related to Louis, that Harry never once feels like he isn’t involved in the conversation.

Zayn is, in fact, a really nice guy. He tells Harry embarrassing stories about Louis from when they were on tour, and he asks questions about Harry’s life, looking truly interested in everything he has to say.

It’s almost two hours later that the conversation officially quiets down, and Louis is soon enough pulling Zayn in for a hug outside of the pub, making him promise that they’ll do it again sometime.

It’s freezing cold and there’s a light drizzle falling as they run towards the car, Harry almost slipping a few times in the wet pavement.

“Back to mine?” Louis asks once they get inside the car.

“Yeah,” Harry says, taking Louis’ smaller hands in between his and pressing them to his mouth, blowing hot air to them in a bid to get them warm. He sees Louis suppressing a shudder. “Are you cold, baby?”

Louis hums, taking his hands out Harry’s hold to start the engine. “I’ve got you to keep me warm though,” he says smirking at Harry.

“Sure, baby,” he leans to kiss him on the cheek. “Whatever you need”.

They drive to Louis’ house in between giggles and screams, screaming at the top of their lungs the lyrics to Louis’ previous albums.

“Was it as bad as you thought?” Louis asks when they’re finally inside his house, Clifford running to the foyer to greet them. “Hey boy,” he whispers as hie scratches his head, walking past him towards the kitchen.

Harry takes off his coat and hangs it on the coat hook, happily following Louis and Clifford behind.

“It wasn’t actually,” he says, “Zayn is really nice. I really had fun, babe”.

“I told you,” Louis turns to smile at him. He walks towards the fridge and takes a few stuffs out to prepare sandwiches for them; Harry walks to help him, but Louis shakes his head and motions for him to sit on the kitchen stool. “I’m really happy you two finally met, Haz, it was important for me that you liked him”.

“Backwards, baby,” Harry says smiling softly. “You mean it was important for _him_ to like _me_ ”.

Louis chuckles. “No, I meant what I said,” he takes out a knife and starts cutting a tomato for their food, “It’ll be like you say when you meet my family”.

“Do you think they’ll like me?” he asks, thinking about how Louis has six siblings that are probably very protective of him. Harry holds back a shiver.

“They’ll love you, b–, _fucking hell_!” Louis drops the knife and brings his finger into his mouth. “Shit, that hurt”.

Harry is already standing next to him when Louis lowers his hand.

“Let me see,” he says, taking a hold of his boyfriend’s wrist, turning his hand to search for the cut. There’s a small trickle of blood running down from the wound. “It’s not deep. C’mon, baby, put it under water and I’ll get a Band-Aid”.

Louis does as so while Harry takes out the first aid kit from a cabinet. He finds the bands at the bottom of it, taking it out along with a small bottle of povidone-iodine to prevent any infections.

He goes back to stand next to Louis, who takes his finger out from under the water and showing it to Harry.

“Thank you,” Louis says as Harry gets to work, trying to be as gentle as possible. Once the band it’s in place and secured, he brings Louis’ hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss over the covered finger and then another one on his forehead.

“I think it’s best if I prepare the sandwiches, baby,” Harry says, guiding Louis to the kitchen stool and making him sit. “Don’t want you to end up without a finger”.

Louis huffs, “I’m not going to complain only because your sandwiches are better than mine”.

“There’s no science behind them, Lou,” he laughs, taking out a pan to prepare eggs as well.

“You’re saying that to the guy who burnt his eggs last night, love”.

“Fair enough,” he says, waiting for the oil to get warm before cracking the eggs. Clifford, who’d been lying on the kitchen floor, looks up at the sound of Harry cracking the eggs against the counter, “Your dad is quite clumsy in the kitchen, Cliff, don’t know how you’ve survived without me before,” he jokes.

Louis gives him a fond look, “Me neither”.

Harry blushes but continues to work in silence; Louis takes out his phone and Harry watches him from the corner of his eye as he opens the notes app and starts writing. He would never betray Louis’ trust by leaning to look at the lyrics he’s writing, but he still loves to sneak glances at the man, loving the look Louis gets on his face. Harry observes as Louis types with a timid smile, his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

“Lou,” Harry calls once their food it’s ready, putting the two sandwiches on different plates, “Lou!”

“Shit, sorry, H,” Louis laughs, standing up when he sees Harry holding their food. “Living room?”

“Okay”.

They sit on the couch, eating and making small talk as they look for something to watch on Netflix. It still surprises Harry how easy the dynamic of their relationship is, how, even though they’re well on their way to two months together, they don’t get bored talking about the most irrelevant stuff as well as the deep stuff. He’s happy, Louis makes him happy, which it’s the most incredible thing.

“You’re incredible,” he voices his thoughts out loud, making Louis turn to him, his cheeks turning red.

“Shut up,” he mumbles, but he leaves his plate on the coffee table next to the couch and crawls until he’s almost completely laying on top of Harry, nuzzling into his chest. “You are incredible, Haz, you make me the happiest”.

Harry sighs contentedly, putting his plate on the spot next to him on the couch and getting comfortable on it, squirming until he has Louis tucked under his arms, tightening his hold on him.

“You make me the happiest as well,” he says, kissing the top of his head.

“And you give the best cuddles so that’s a win for me”.

“Oh yeah?” Harry teases, rubbing Louis’ arm, “I much prefer cuddling with Cliff if I’m honest”.

“You’ll regret saying that, Styles,” Louis says, pressing a kiss on his chest as he pushes him on the couch until Harry is laying with his back completely flat with Louis on top of him, straddling his lap.

Harry closes his eyes as Louis leans over him. He has his hands placed gently on Harry’s waist, running them up and down making his shirt roll up and his fingers connect with his exposed skin.

Louis attaches his lips to Harry’s neck, tracing with his tongue from his collarbone up until the base of his jaw. The feeling of Louis’ hot breath against the wet patches of skin has Harry panting in no time.

“Baby,” Harry gasps when Louis sucks on his earlobe.

“Yeah?” Louis feigns innocence, kissing down his chest as his fingers tug at the bottom of Harry’s shirt. He pulls it up, exposing his abdomen almost completely.

Harry moans when Louis rolls his body down, his lips connecting to his tummy, just over the waistband of his jeans. Harry’s cock twitches at the sight of his boyfriend’s mouth so close to it.

In a swift motion Harry holds onto Louis’ hips, lifting him up from on top of him and laying him down on the L-shaped couch. He takes out his shirt and rests his forearms by each side of Louis’ head, leaning in to kiss him softly. Their lips brush together desperately, his tongue fast to find its way into Louis’ mouth, swallowing the exquisite sounds coming from it, nibbling at his bottom lip as his hips start swiveling at their own accord.

“Haz,” Louis breathes out, his hands clutching onto Harry’s shoulder as his hips jerk up, chasing for contact.

One of Louis’ hands slides down, his fingers lightly brushing over his exposed nipples, his ab muscles until he places it over the bulge of Harry’s cock. Harry unconsciously presses his hips towards the touch, mouthing over Louis’ lips and cheeks.

Harry’s dick it’s thick and heavy against Louis’ hold, and he feels as his boyfriend tightens his hold even through the layers of his jeans and trousers.

“Fuck, _Louis,_ ” Harry groans when he feels Louis unbuttoning his pants and pulling the zipper down.

“ _Harry_ ,” Louis moans, gripping Harry’s cock over his trousers. Harry ruts down, circling his hips as he reaches down with one of his hands, trying to take Louis’ shirt off. “Wait, Harry”.

Harry pulls away, his chest raising heavily as he looks down at Louis, a confused frown forming on his face as he searches for the emotions in Louis’ face. He looks _beautiful_ , his eyes wide, shiny and dark, his red lips swollen from how much Harry has been biting on them, his mouth open as he tries to catch his breath as well. He looks down at the place where his cock was just a minute ago, and he sees the way Louis’ own dick is pressing against the fabric of his clothes; he’s so hard it’s almost painful to watch, and Harry’s finger prickle with the need to reach out and help him out.

“Lou?” he finally asks, resting his hands over Louis’ tummy, running them up and down soothingly. Even through the arousal and lust in them, he can see the nervousness behind his eyes. “What do you want baby?”

Louis bites his lips as he looks up at him, his hair sticking out in every direction from being pressed on the couch.

“Take me to bed,” Louis says. And Harry can only comply.

He puts his hands in Louis’ thighs as the singer wraps his arms around his neck. He lifts him up easily, making his legs swathe around his middle, securing him in place. Louis’ mouth finds its way back to Harry’s neck, sucking eagerly as Harry walks them out of the living room.

He gets to the hallway, stopping right next to the stairs.

“Upstairs,” Louis says before he can ask, still mouthing over Harry’s damp neck. “First door on the right”.

Following his boyfriend’s instructions, Harry guides them to Louis’ room. He opens the door careful to hold Louis with one hand, and then closes it behind them. He walks to the bed and slowly lowers him on top of it.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says honestly, his cock still hard at the sight of the rosy cheeks adorning his boyfriend’s face, who’s pliantly spread over the bed, leaving a space in between his legs perfect for Harry to fit into.

He bends Louis’ legs, who’s eyes widen when he feels Harry running his fingers from his ankles and up his thighs, finally settling on his hips.

“Can I take these off?” he asks, his fingers grazing over the waistband of his jeans.

Louis nods, his eyes closed as Harry leans over to kiss his face. He starts with soft brushes of his lips, first on one of his cheeks, slowly moving to the other; then to each of his cheekbones and to his eyelids, nosing over the bridge of his nose.

His fingers unzip Louis’ jeans, nudging them down until Louis raises his hips from the bed, allowing Harry to take them completely off. Louis sits up quickly, taking off his own shirt before laying down on the bed again, leaving only his underwear to cover him. There’s a small wet spot in Louis’ briefs where his cock has been leaking precoma, the shape of his hard on visible through the cotton.

It doesn’t matter how many times Harry has seen Louis like this, it always takes his breath away to stare at the man that managed to slip through all of the defenses he had built around him. Harry closes his eyes as Louis’ hands make their way to his hips, pulling his jeans down along with his trousers, leaving Harry completely bare in front of him. His cock springs free and he’s so hard he feels the tip against his stomach, balls aching for release.

He crawls over the bed and positions himself on top of Louis’ body; he leans down, pressing their lips together roughly. The intimacy of having Louis with only a thin layer of clothing between them, acting as the only barrier that’s keeping him from seeing him fully sends shivers down his spine.

He rubs their cocks against each other, circling his hips as he swallows the noises coming out of Louis, their fingers intertwined as he planks over him. Harry lazily grinds his hips forward, teasing Louis’ leaking cock with light friction as he bites on his bottom lip.

“You’re so beautiful,” Harry says reverently, giving a final kiss to Louis’ mouth before moving down.

He mouths over his covered cock, cupping it firmly with his mouth, smirking smugly at the sharp intake of breath Louis takes at the touch. He moves his lips to the waistband of Louis’ briefs, pulling it down with his teeth. Louis surges his hips forward, desperate to have Harry’s mouth back on him, but Harry only grips his hips firmly, manhandling him until his briefs are under the curve of his bum, and taking them off with his teeth along his legs. Once they’re finally out of the way, Harry kisses his way back up, entertaining himself on Louis’ thighs, running his hands over Louis’ arse as he nibs on his inner thighs, getting close enough to his balls to have Louis wriggling underneath him.

“ _Harry,_ c’mon,” Louis groans, pushing his hips forwards against the restrain of Harry’s hands.

“What, baby?” he asks, teasingly nosing over Louis’ thighs and just below his navel, making sure to avoid any contact with his cock.

“ _Please,_ ” Louis breathes out, tangling one of his hands in Harry’s hair and pulls him up roughly until his lips are grazing over the place he so desperately needs.

Harry tsks in a mixture of disapproval and arousal; he _really_ doesn’t like Louis being greedy, he wants to take his time with him, to drive him crazy until he begs for Harry to take him on his mouth, but he also can’t resist it when he pulls his hair, it’s one of the main reasons Harry has kept it this long.

He decides to take pity on his boyfriend and wraps his lips over the tip of his cock. He stays like that for a few seconds, only warming Louis’ cock as he breathes through his nose, hot air making Louis’ hairs stand up. It’s only when Louis is squirming underneath him again the Harry finally allows his tongue to move, circling around the tip and rubbing in his slit.

Harry takes one of his hands to cup Louis’ balls, as the other still has a bruising grip on his hips, trying to keep him from moving. He bobs his mouth down on his cock, hollowing his cheeks until he can feel the tip hitting the back of his throat. He’s positively _gagging_ for it, licking and sucking in earnest as he absorbs every moan that comes from his boyfriend’s mouth.

“ _Fuck_ , Harry, please,” Louis gasps when one of Harry’s fingers grazes over his hole. He presses his finger ever-so-slightly, careful not to slide in completely, instead focusing on teasing him.

“Do you have stuff?” he asks, and he’s surprised by how gruffy his voice sounds.

“Nightstand,” the singer says, puckering his lips in a silent command for a kiss. Harry complies happily.

He pulls away with a wet smack of their lips and moves out of the bed. He walks to the nightstand where he easily finds a small bottle of lube and a package of condoms; he takes both of them in one hand and kneels on the bed again, putting the items next to Louis’ body as he nudges his legs open and positions himself between them.

Harry surges his body forward, attaching his lips to Louis’ as he fumbles for the bottle of lube. He doesn’t know why he’s so nervous; they’ve done this before, but somehow it feels different tonight. There’s a prickling sensation in the air, an unnamed emotion bubbling under the surfaced, heightening all of their emotions.

He manages to open the bottle of lube and he coats coats to of his fingers in the slick, rubbing them against it each other to get it a bit warm before he starts to pet around Louis’ hole with his fingers.

He dips just one fingertip inside him, smiling against Louis’ mouth as he moans at the intrusion.

“ _Harry_ ,” he grunts out, pushing down on his finger, desperate to feel him deeper.

Harry bites on his own bottom lip as he pushes his finger all the way in, holding Louis in place as he stretches him out for him. After a few seconds of keeping still, Harry twists another finger inside him, slowly opening him up. Louis arches his back as Harry starts to fuck his fingers in and out of him, scissoring apart slightly in order to increase the stretch, the movement makes their leaking cocks rub against each other, eliciting a moan to come out of Harry.

Louis’ hands trail over his back, burying his nails on it when Harry curls his fingers expertly, catching on Louis’ prostate.

“ _Fuck! Harry… ah…,_ ” Louis whimpers as Harry rubs over the spot again. He digs his fingernails deeper into Harry’s back, provoking a loud grunt from Harry and causes his hips to surge forward, making their cocks grind against each other in a teasing, torturous manner.

“You okay, baby?” Harry asks, his voice hoarse as he runs the pads of his fingers over Louis’ prostate over and over again.

Louis whines at the stimulation but nods his head, nonetheless, burying his face on Harry’s neck and sucking firmly at the place behind his ear, where he knows it drives Harry wild.

Harry pulls away reluctantly, his fingers still inside Louis as he looks over the bottle of lube beside them and them back to his leaking cock, which is so hard it’s starting to be painful, a deep shade of red and almost pulsing in need to be _inside_. He tears his eyes back to Louis’ face, who has been following his gaze and gives him a shy but firm nod.

“I want you, Harry, please,” he says, his voice airy as Harry continues to move his fingers in and out of him, alternating with curling them to catch on his prostate.

“Are you sure, babe?” Harry asks, just to be sure, “You know we can just do this, right?”

Louis smiles despite himself, his eyes softening, “I know, love, but I _want_ it”.

Harry crouches over him, pressing a soft kiss on his lips, his mind going over three little words he forces himself not to think about as he grabs the lube once again, squeezing some more over his hand.

He spreads it over his cock with his slick hand, his grip loose as he adds a third finger into Louis’ hole, trying his best to increase the stretch before he allows himself to be inside him. He strokes himself idly to the vision of his fingers disappearing inside Louis’ rim, feeling as a warm drop of precome beads out.

When he’s finally satisfied with Louis’ state, the shorter man squirming and moaning on the bed, Harry at last reaches for one of the condoms that had been laying forgotten on the bed. He takes his fingers out of Louis, making the man whimper at the loss.

“Can we, huh,” Louis breathes out, eyeing the condom. His forehead is set on a frown as he watches the foil in Harry’s hand, before he moves his gaze back to Harry, his eyes wide and honest. “I’m clean”.

Harry’s breathing stutters. “Me too,” he whispers as the wheels in his brain start to work uncontrollably.

Louis smiles bashfully as he lifts himself on his forearms and starts leaving kisses along Harry’s jaw and down his neck, his hands roaming over Harry’s chest.

“I need you to use your words, baby,” Harry says, grabbing his hands firmly, looking at him straight in the eye, “do you, huh,” he clears his throat, “Do you want us to do it bare?”

“Yes,” Louis says, tilting his head to watch Harry’s face. “Please”.

Harry smiles widely and wraps his hand around Louis’ cock, thumbing over the head that has been slightly forgotten after Harry got his fingers inside him. He strokes slowly, taking a hold of his own cock and matching the movement of his hands. Louis’ dick twitches in his fist when he nudges a leg between his thighs, spreading them open and settling in the middle of them.

Louis looks dazed as Harry grabs a hold of his hips, positioning him until he finds a comfortable position, shifting his hips forward and lining up the wet, warm head of his cock with Louis’ stretched hole. Louis wriggles his arse impatiently, moaning as he feels the pressure of Harry’s bare dick against his rim.

“Harry… _ah_ … _shit_ ,” Louis moans loudly as Harry starts to slowly inching in. One of his hands is holding onto Louis’ waist, the other flat against the mattress, steading him as he pushes into Louis’ body.

“ _Fuck,_ you’re so tight, baby,” he grunts, curls falling over his face and covering his vision as he finally bottoms out. Louis must notice his difficulty and gently pushes Harry’s hair out of his eyes, tangling his fingers in it as he holds it in the back of his head. He tugs at it slightly, making Harry’s hip shift even _deeper_. “Lou…”

He draws out carefully, enjoying the easy slide of his cock on Louis’ walls, which are clenching onto him to prevent him from leaving. When the only thing inside Louis it’s the tip of his dick, Harry slams back inside forcefully, making Louis let out a chocked noise, hitting his prostate dead-on.

Harry falls into an easy and non-relenting rhythm, moving slowly out of Louis but pushing his hips forward hard and deep. It’s slow and controlled, the only noises filling the room are their moans and groans, the insistent and obscene sound of their skin slapping.

Louis’ cock is pressed in between their bodies, leaking onto their stomachs, adding to the steaky feeling of their sweat.

“Harder,” Louis mumbles, his eyes half lidded as he tries to look at Harry. “Harder, _please_ , Harry, harder”.

Harry clenches his jaw as he starts to fuck into his boyfriend in earnest, allowing his body to fall almost entirely on top of Louis, their foreheads pressed together as he smacks their lips into a kiss. He’s pretty sure his heart it’s beating as fast as his thrusts, his ears buzzing as he stares at all the emotions flicking over Louis’ face. His heart is so full it could burst.

“You’re so perfect for me, baby,” he says. His mind screams for him to slow down, to take the time to worship every inch of Louis’ body, but he keeps his face, smiling as Louis arches up as Harry hits his prostate again.

He does his best to keep the angle as one of his hands takes a hold of Louis’ cock, wrapping his fingers firmly around the base. He smiles as he feels the precoma dripping from it and he starts stroking him in time with his thrusts.

Harry leans in to kiss him without slowing his pace, nibbling at Louis’ bottom lip until he opens his mouth for him, their tongues finding their way to each other, dancing and battling as Harry continues to stroke him.

“Harry,” Louis whines, one of his hands clutching to the mattress as the other is still tightly tugging at Harry’s hair. “Harry, I’m gonna… _oh my god_ –, I… gonna”.

“Yes,” Harry encourages, fastening his thrusts even more, “Come for me, baby… Want to fill you up, c’mon”.

He only needs to pound into him a couple more times, quickening his strokes on Louis’ cock until the singer is coming with a loud cry of Harry’s name, strings of come spurting over his hand and their stomachs. Harry fucks him through his orgasm, his hips continuing to move inside him, not letting go of his hold on his boyfriend’s cock, who has started squirming under him with oversensitivity.

Harry’s arms shake where they’re planking over Louis, his hips stuttering as he feels the rhythmical spams of Louis’ hole around him. It only takes him a couple more thrusts until he’s panting and moaning, filling Louis up with his come.

“ _Ah…_ Lou,” he groans, stilling his hips as he nuzzles into Louis’ neck.

They stay like that for a while; Louis lets go of his hair which falls loose over his shoulder as he runs his fingers through the curls, trying to detangle them as best as he can while Harry presses kisses along Louis’ neck, cleaning his come-covered hand on the duvet.

When he finally gathers the strength to lift himself up, Harry gently moves away from on top of Louis, his cock sliding out of his hole making Louis hiss.

“Baby,” Harry whispers, rolling onto his side and wrapping his arms around Louis’ chest, “that was… that was amazing, Lou. It was perfect. You’re perfect”

Louis giggles happily, linking their fingers. “You’re perfect,” he smiles, “You’re so perfect for me, Harry, I don’t know how I got so lucky to have met you”.

“We were meant to be,” he says, trying to be cheesy, but it sounds more honest than he’d intended.

“Yeah,” Louis tilts his head to look at him, “We were meant to be”.

Harry sighs contently, allowing Louis to fit himself into the crook of his neck. He presses a kiss to his forehead, inhaling the delicious smell of Louis’ fringe. He allows himself to relax, his muscles loosening as he concentrates on counting the beats of Louis’ heart. It’s not long until he feels his eyes getting heavier, dozing off with background melody of his boyfriend’s breathing.

“Haz?” Louis mumbles, his voice sounds sleepy and Harry hums in acknowledgment, “I’m cold”.

Harry smiles despite himself, pressing a soft kiss to Louis’ cheek before slowly sitting up on the bed.

“Want me to clean you up and get into bed, baby?”

“Yes, please,” Louis whispers, smiling at him, “I want cuddles too, and fall asleep with your arms around me”.

“Your wish is my command,” Harry says, and he finds that he’s not even joking this time. 

⤜ L ⤛

Louis is sitting on an airplane when he sees the picture. He gasps, quickly taking out his phone, typing furiously.

_I can´t believe you did this_

An answer comes in less than a minute.

**Lou, I’m sorry**

**it was in the spur of the moment, i’m sorry**

Louis reads over the messages, huffing as he logs back into Instagram and stares at the picture again. His phone buzzes with a new notification.

**It’s not that bad, baby**

_Not that bad ??????,_ he sends back, biting on the inside of his cheek. _Harry you just cut all of your hair…_

**Not all of it :c**

**facetime?**

**I wanna know your opinion and be honest !! don’t say you don’t like it just because you love my long hair**

Louis smiles in spite of himself. His flight has just taken off, so that means the WI-FI it’s probably already working. It’s only a one-hour flight to Amsterdam, but he wastes no time and presses on the facetime button under Harry’s name. 

His boyfriend answers in less than a second. 

“Oh my god,” Louis gasps as soon as Harry’s face comes into focus. “Oh my god, H”.

“Do you like it?” Harry asks, and Louis hates how unsure he sounds. The man on the screen absentmindedly runs a hand over his shoulder, a telling sign that he’s still not used to having is hair this short.

“I love it, babe,” he says, trying to keep his voice as honest as he possibly can whilst on a facetime call.

He really does love it. He was mostly teasing when he’d texted Harry with his way-over-the-top reaction; he’d been shocked to see the picture of Harry holding his cut-off hair on Instagram, but he really didn’t care as long as Harry was happy with his decision.

“Really?” Harry asks, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, baby, it was really an impulse. I was walking with Clifford, saw the barbershop and just did it”.

“I really _really_ love it, Haz,” he says, desperately wanting to have his boyfriend in front of him, “It makes you look younger as well”.

“Are you saying I looked old?” Harry teases, feigning indignation. “Excuse me, baby but _you_ are the old man in this relationship”.

“Shut it, H,” Louis rolls his eyes fondly. _Fuck_ , he’s going to miss Harry so much.

This is the first time they’ve been apart since getting together. Their two-month anniversary passed in a bliss of happiness, the days slowly turning colder and rainier as November gave pass to December, but Louis’ life has never looked so bright.

He’s happy, genuinely so. Ever since their talk about Harry’s insecurities and them sleeping together for the first time, things started to look even better for them, something Louis never thought possible. Harry constantly makes him smile and laugh with his dorky and adorable personality, and Louis tries his best to do the same for him.

“How’s Clifford?” Louis asks after a while, still trying to get used to Harry’s new haircut.

“He’s good,” Harry smiles, the nervous look on his face finally dissipating. “You were right”.

“I usually am but go on”.

Harry huffs out a laugh, shaking his head fondly, “He really doesn’t like sleeping in your bed. I went downstairs this morning and he was on the couch”.

“You slept alright?” He asks, noticing Zayn waving his hands from behind his phone in an attempt to get his attention. “Give me a second, babe,” he says to Harry before turning his attention to his best friend. “Yeah?”

“I’m sorry, Lou,” Zayn says looking apologetic, “but we need to discuss your schedule for the next couple of days”.

He sighs in defeat. “Okay, just give me a few minutes”.

“Go, baby,” Harry says from the screen, a resigned look in his face. “Call me when you’re free okay?”

“I’ll call you tonight,” Louis promises, blowing a kiss to his boyfriend before hanging up. He takes a few seconds to dwell over how much he already misses Harry and turns to face Zayn once again.

He listens carefully as his manager and best friend tells hm all the details about his stay in Amsterdam. He’s travelling with two of the song writers he usually works with to meet up with some of the other that helped him during the final process of editing and cutting the songs for his previous album. The idea for this trip it’s that they’ll only be there for a week and be back in London at the start of the second week of December with the album finished, giving Louis enough time to clear his head during Christmas and say his he has any last-minute changes he wants to make before his performance in New York City for New Year’s Eve.

It’s going to be a busy season, but he would be lying if he said he isn’t buzzing with excitement. Louis doesn’t know what makes him happier: the fact that he’s about to finish the album that has taken him _months_ to write, or the fact that in less than a week he’ll be back in Harry’s arms, on their way to Doncaster to spend Christmas with Louis’ family.

He thought it was going to be difficult to convince Harry to travel back to his hometown with him to spend the Holidays and meet his family, but in reality, Harry had just smiled widely at Louis’ proposal, his cheeks blushing slightly as he nodded bashfully.

“See you on the studio tomorrow, Lou,” Zayn says as their car finally pulls in front of their hotel in Amsterdam.

Him and the rest of the crew were tired from having to wake up early to catch the flight, but the last thing Louis wants to do was lock himself in the hotel as the rest of them sleeps. Instead, he decides to take a walk around the city.

He tries his best to go undercover, not a difficult task when it’s winter and he already needs to wear layers of clothing to keep himself from catching a cold.

Louis walks absentmindedly for hours, his feet dragging him along Amsterdam’s empty streets, stopping by a small bookstore/coffeeshop that reminds him of Harry. He steps inside and goes straight to the “ _English books_ ” section, smiling as he picks a collection of poems by an author Harry has mentioned several times before.

The young girl at the cashier stumbles over her words as she does the checkout, flushing deeply when she watches Louis looking at her with a patient smile. Probably a fan.

“That’s my favorite author,” she mumbles out, blushing even more as she takes his credit card.

“Really?” Louis asks, laughing as he eyes the book. “I guess I should give it a read, then”.

“This isn’t for you?” her eyebrows shoot up in curiosity.

“Nope,” he says, “It’s for my boyfriend. That’s his favorite author as well”.

“Oh,” she says excitedly, “I’ve seen him on your Instagram, he seems lovely, like he makes you very happy as well”.

Definitely a fan then. “Yeah, he is,” Louis smiles at her, feeling his own cheeks blush, “And he does… make me happy I mean, a lot”.

“Good,” it’s all she says, handing him back his credit card and the book.

Louis makes sure to sign her a piece of paper before he leaves the store. 

-

The following days go by in a similar manner.

He walks around the city almost every afternoon after his writing sessions. He makes mental notes to tell Harry about the street dancers he saw on his way to the studio, or to make sure to remember a certain city spot he’d like to take Harry when they come here together, because he _wants_ to come back with Harry.

He calls Harry every day to tell him about those little details, but it’s just not the same, he wants to _experience_ it with him. He wants to take Harry’s hand as they laugh over the cheesy couples that put a lock on the bridges, and he wants to kiss him under the stars because he’s just as cheesy when he’s with him.

And that’s when the feeling sinks in, just as he’s sending Harry a picture of two pigeons fighting over a piece of bread. It hits Louis with the force of a lightning struck.

He is _in love_ with Harry. Real and sincere love, innocent and yet profound.

A smile spreads on his face, the realisation making him want to scream over the rooftops to let everyone know that he’s finally found the love of his life. Because he’s certain of it, Harry is the person whom he wants to spend every day with, he wants to fall asleep next to him and wake up wrapped around him every morning.

He finds himself typing and deleting the words over and over every time he texts Harry. He wants to tell him, but he also wants to make sure he won’t scare him off. His boyfriend can be a bit insecure when it comes to believing that Louis really is certain of them.

Later that the day he’s talking with Harry over facetime, the beautiful face of the man he _loves_ smiling back at him through the screen.

“I can’t wait for tomorrow,” Harry is saying. He’s sitting on Louis’ couch, Clifford sprawled on his lap.

“Me either, love,” his heart starts racing at his own words, even though he’s always used them with Harry. “Are you coming to the airport to pick me up?”

“Of course, baby,” Harry laughs, not noticing Louis’ internal battle. “Going to be there with a sign with your name and all, and then we’re coming back to your place and I’m going to make you dinner”.

“Proper spoiling me, aren’t you love?” He says, smiling at the very thought of finally having Harry’s arms around him in less than twenty-four hours.

“Well, yeah,” Harry’s blush is visible even through his pixelated screen, “Got to make sure to keep you around”.

Louis laughs fondly, “It’ll take you a lot of effort to push me away, H,” he says, “God, I can’t wait for tomorrow”.

“Only a few hours left,” Harry whispers as he scratches Clifford’s head.

They keep talking for almost two hours, it’s a bit scary how they can just _be_ with each other, not talking at all but still feel so close. Harry comments every once in a while, about the show he’s been binging during this week that Louis’ been on Amsterdam. Louis talks to him about the finishing process of the album and how excited he is to finally get it out there for the world.

Eventually Harry starts to doze off, his head resting on one of the couch’s pillow, and Louis notices he’s been wearing one of his oversized hoodies.

He softly hums to the rhythm of the song he’s been writing on his notebook whilst speaking with Harry, his mind going over the words time and time again.

_I’d be falling for you, baby_

_And I just can’t stop_

_‘Cause I never knew, I never knew_

_You could hold moonlight in your hands_

_Until the night I held you_

Louis stares at the sleeping man on the screen of his phone. He can’t wait for Harry to listen to this album. The album he wrote entirely about _him_. How could he never notice that this is what this was? That all he was ever meant to do was fall in love with him. He smiles at his boyfriend, his heartbeat skipping a beat as Harry lets out a small snore, cute and adorable.

Fuck, he’s in deep.

-

They drive to Doncaster on the 23rd.

The original plan was for them to travel about a week before Christmas so Louis and Harry could spend aa lot of time with Louis’ family. In the end, it took them almost a week to gather the strength to leave London.

As soon as Louis saw Harry at the airport, he jumped in his boyfriend’s arms, not bothering to look if there were any paparazzies around. Harry drove them back to Louis’ house, which they didn’t leave for two days until Harry literally had to slip away from Louis’ bed to go open the store. The rest of those two weeks were spent with Louis visiting Harry at the store every day, listening to the album on repeat and writing some more as Harry worked, only for them to end up in Louis’ bed again at the end of the day.

It had seemed like a great idea at the time; spending as much time with his boyfriend after being apart for a week. Now, as they slowly entered Doncaster only a day before his birthday, with his mother and sisters texting him every two seconds to make sure they were _actually_ on their way, it didn’t look as great.

“I thought I was the one who ought to be nervous,” Harry says from the passenger’s seat, putting his hand on Louis’ thigh to stop it from bouncing nervously. “You know, _I’m_ the one meeting my boyfriend’s family”.

Louis huffs out a laugh, “Yeah well, _I’m_ the one who hasn’t brought you around even though we’ve been dating for almost three months,” he says, giving Harry a nervous smile, “You know they’ll love you, I mean, my mom hasn’t even met you and I’m sure she already loves you just by how I talk about you… me, on the other hand, I have a big chance of getting hit in the head for not bringing you around sooner”. 

“Sure, baby,” Harry rolls his eyes, squeezing Louis’ leg, “I’m sure your mom it’s going to be too happy from you being there to worry about everything else. Especially not meeting me before”.

Louis snorts, “You say that now, but you haven’t met my mom yet, she could totally do it”.

Harry smiles but doesn’t say anything, his hand still on Louis’ hand as he looks out the window. The weight of his hand on Louis’ skin helps him relax, concentrating on the heat emanating from their contact instead of what’ll happen when they get to his house.

The thing is, Louis is lying a bit. He knows his mom is going to love Harry, and that she won’t actually get mad at him, but he _is_ nervous. This is the first time he’s bringing someone to meet his mother in years, and even when the last boyfriend he brought home had been a serious one, it now seems like nothing in comparison to what he has with Harry.

It’s not only that he wants his family to like Harry, because he knows they will; Harry has a power to charm everyone around him, but he also wants Harry to like his family, he wants his boyfriend to care about them and to be comfortable with them.

“Here we are,” Louis says as they pull on the driveway of his mom’s house.

“Hey,” Harry takes his hand before he can open the door. “It’ll be all right, baby, I’m going to love them, Lou”.

Louis smiles, a relieved sigh coming out of him. It’s incredible how Harry always seems to read his mind, to know exactly what he needs without him having to pronounce a word.

 _I love you_ , he thinks as he leans to press their lips together.

“Let’s go,” he ends up saying and opens the door to get out of the car before the words can slip from his mouth.

He doesn’t know why he hasn’t told Harry about his feelings yet. At first Louis thought it was because he needed time to let his mind adjust to the realization, he wanted to take time for himself to _feel_ , but as the days started to pass, he constantly found himself having to bite his tongue to keep the words from coming out.

As soon as they’re out of the car the front door of the house flings open and a caravan of people and noise walk out.

“Louis!”

“Lou!”

Little feet run past everyone in seconds, the baby twins throwing themselves into Louis’ open arms without hesitation.

“Hey, loves,” he says excitedly, a big smile on his face as he raises both of his siblings and sets one in each of his hips. “How are you? Have you been good?”

“Yes!” Ernest, his little brother, yells in his ear.

“The best,” Doris giggles, resting her head on his shoulder.

“My sweet boy,” his mom steps in front of him, managing to wrap him into a hug even with him holding the twins.

“Hi mom,” Louis whispers, pressing a kiss to her temple, beaming at her when they pull apart. “Okay, everyone,” he says as he turns to look at Harry who has been watching the scene with a soft, but nervous smile on his face, “This is my boyfriend Harry; Harry, this is my family,” he points to everyone in order, “my mom, Jay, then there’s Lottie and Fizzy, please don’t believe anything they say, then the twins Phoebe and Daisy and baby twins Ernie and Doris”.

Harry smiles politely, clearly taken aback as his eyes dart over everyone.

“Hi, I’m Harry,” he says, blushing as he tilts his head to look at Louis’ mom, “It’s a pleasure to be here, thank you so much for having me, Mrs. Deakin”.

“Oh, none of that, sweetheart,” his mom says, walking towards Harry to pull him into a hug. “You can call me Jay”.

“Thank you,” Harry says, and he’s positively beaming in pride as he turns to look at Louis.

“Let’s get inside before you freeze to death,” his mom says. “There’s hot chocolate ready, c’mon babies let go of Louis so he can get his stuff from the car”.

The twins frown and press themselves more firmly to Louis’ body.

“Don’t worry, Lou,” Harry says, absently walking over to press a kiss to Louis’ head, “I’ll get our stuff from the car, you take your siblings inside, it’s cold out here”.

Louis chuckles and looks to his family who are all staring at him with knowing smiles. He blushes as his mom gives him a thumbs up and turns around to walk inside the house. He follows suit after making sure that Harry can carry their bags without a problem and sets his siblings down when they’re inside the house, taking off his boots before turning to take some of the things from Harry’s hands.

“Thank you,” Harry says, putting the last bag on the small bench next to the stairs. “The babies are so cute, Lou,” he whispers, his eyes sparkling with excitement, “and your mom is so nice and so pretty, I hope she likes me”.

“She does,” he promises, cupping Harry’s cheek in one of his hands.

“Do you think your sisters are going to like me? They looked kind of intimidating”.

Louis laughs, “They’ll act though for a couple of hours, or they’ll try to more like, but you’ll win them over in no time, H”.

“Louis!” someone –Lottie– yells from behind, making them jump apart, “Mom says to bring your boyfriend to the kitchen so she can interrogate him”.

“Not true!” his mom yells from the kitchen.

“Fine, my didn’t say that but I do,” Lottie says as she walks into view, narrowing her eyes when she looks at Harry, “I’m going to be waiting”.

Louis groans, burying his face on Harry’s chest.

Harry, ever the gentleman, takes Louis’ hand and smiles at Lottie, “We’ll be right there”.

“Good,” Lottie says, turning on her heels and going back to the kitchen.

They stay like that for a minute, the emotion of having Harry in the house he grew up in overcomes Louis. It’ the kind of happiness you can’t fake. He wants to cherish every moment. He buries his face in the crook of Harry’s neck, pressing a kiss on his pulse point. 

“She’s really going to come looking for us if we don’t go,” he says, the words getting muffled by Harry’s skin.

“Let’s go then, baby,” Harry pulls away, leaning to kiss his forehead lightly, “I want to be on their good side”.

“You already are,” Louis smiles softly at Harry, but takes his hand and guides them towards the kitchen nonetheless.

The chatter coming from the kitchen comes to a halt as soon as they enter. His sisters stare at Harry with narrowed eyes, but his boyfriend only gives them a shy smile, not letting go of their tangled hands.

“So, I was told I’m going to be interrogated?” Harry asks looking at Lottie. Louis smiles when he notices his sister’s lips curling up, clearly trying to hold back a smile. There’s no doubt in his mind that Harry is going to win over his family in no time. “Feel free”.

Daisy and Phoebe giggle at Harry’s words and Louis’ can see his mom biting his lips to avoid doing the same. Louis circles his hand around Harry’s waist, hugging him tightly from behind as he rests his chin on his shoulder.

“No, Lottie, don’t feel free,” he says, frowning as he presses a kiss on Harry’s covered shoulder, but of course, that only makes Lottie to smile without shame.

“Great!” she cheers, taking out one of the stools and patting it in a silent command for Harry to sit on it. “Louis, let him go, I’m not going to bite him”.

“You’re going to scare him off,” he complains, but let’s go of Harry.

“She won’t,” Harry says, giving Louis a private smile that sends butterflies to his stomach. _I love you. I love you. I love you_. He just wants to say it out loud.

Lottie looks at him with a raised eyebrow, and Louis is sure he can almost read her mind. He smiles and nods, entertained by his overprotective sister.

He walks towards his mom to help her chop the vegetables for dinner, a permanent smile on his face as he listens to the conversation between Harry and his sisters, who have joined the interrogatory and are laughing as Harry tells them one of his stories from University. Lottie catches his eyes when Harry is distracted talking about nail polish with the twins; she smiles broadly at him and winks, making Louis smile.

Yep, Harry is definitely going to win over his family.

Time flies by after that; his sisters set the table with Louis’ help, Harry preferring to help Jay with the last arrangements of their food. And it was _a lot_ of food.

Apparently, it had been his sisters’ idea to do separate dinners; one today, for his birthday, and other tomorrow for Christmas Eve. Secretly he thought his birthday was just an excuse to have more food, but oh well. He’ll take what he can get, and if that means preparing more delicious meals with his family and Harry, he won’t complain.

“Your idea was fantastic, Harry,” his mom says as they start eating, “I’m definitely going to add to more recipes now”.

“Thanks, Jay, actually my mom taught me that,” Harry smiles at her as he fills Louis’ cup with wine.

“What are you talking about?” He asks eyeing his mom suspiciously.

“Harry gave me a secret tip for the seasoning of the meat,” she explains before turning to look back at Harry, “well then send my thanks to your mother. Or I’d love to meet her actually, Louis says your birthday is soon, maybe we could prepare something for you? Along with your family of course”.

“Mom…,” Louis warns. He really doesn’t want to scare Harry off.

“Yeah, that’d be really nice actually,” Harry cuts him off with a genuine smile on his face that makes Louis’ heart flip. “My mom is really excited to meet Louis as well so we definitely should arrange something before my birthday. Although I think Louis mentioned something about staying in New York for a while, so I guess it’ll have to wait after that”.

“Oh, yeah!” Fizzy joins in the conversation, clapping her hands in excitement, “I bet you’re thrilled about the trip”.

“Yes,” Harry huffs out a laugh, “I can’t wait, Louis says it’s beautiful”.

Harry gives him a dimpled smile and continues to eat as if nothing’s happened. As if he didn’t just make Louis the happiest person in the world. He’s been working so hard for them to get to this point, and to finally see it makes his heart roar with joy; to get to the point where they’re both so secure in their relationship that they can make casual comments about meeting the family or going on vacations together.

Louis asked Harry to join him in New York only a few days after his return from Amsterdam. He needs to be in the big city for the New Years’ Eve Concert and he instantly thought about how badly he’d missed Harry during the past week, and he wanted him to join him. Harry needed little convincing, apparently, he’d missed Louis as much as he’d missed him and only a few days later, Louis’ tickets and hotel reservation where changed to a double instead of a single. Their plan is to travel only a few days before New Year but to stay for two weeks after it.

“You’re going to love it,” Lottie’s voice pulls him out of his thoughts, “I joined Louis on tour over there last year and it was great. My first time there too and Louis took me to a lot of amazing places”.

“Lottie your idea of ‘amazing places’ was to go to the fifth avenue and shop,” he teases. It’s only partially true, he did manage to get her to a few museums.

“Not true!” Lottie says and sticks out her tongue.

“True,” he imitates her making Harry laugh at his side.

“Well I’m very excited about everything,” Harry comments, “And especially to hear Louis sing live for the first time”.

“Wait,” Daisy asks, setting down her fork as she looks at Louis incredulously, “Harry are you saying that you’ve never heard my brother singing live? _Ever_ ”.

Harry shakes his head, “No I haven’t, and I haven’t heard the album either even when it’s already finished”.

“We haven’t heard it either,” Phoebe chimes in, “But I can’t believe you’ve never heard him live. You haven’t googled one of his performances either”.

“No, never,” Harry shrugs looking sheepish. “I want to have the full Louis Tomlinson concert experience next week”.

“That’s cute,” Lottie smiles, making Harry’s cheeks go red, “I think he’s only performing like five songs of the album though?”

“Yeah, but the album comes out the day before the concert, so by the 30th I’ll have listened to the album and only be missing the live part”.

“Oi, I’m still here,” Louis says, nudging Harry’s shoulder with his own teasingly. “I hope I can meet your standards for the live performance, though, I’m a bit nervous now,” he chuckles, not completely joking.

“You’ll be amazing as usual darling,” his mom says, smiling warmly.

Dinner continues in a mixture of serious conversation and his sisters teaming up with Harry to tease him, making him have to feign indignation at every remark, but running his hands on Harry’s thigh under the table just to show him that he’s enjoying it. He loves it.

They head upstairs almost an hour later, apologizing to his mother for going to bed so early but explaining to her that they’re tired after the long drive.

“I know what you’re doing,” Harry whispers as soon as he closes the bedroom’s door behind them.

“Oh, yeah?” Louis asks, attaching his mouth to Harry’s neck, nosing over his jaw. The faint stubble scratches his nose slightly. “What am I doing?”

Harry moans quietly when Louis traces his tongue over his pulse point, “You’re trying to get me naked”.

“Hmm,” he nibbles Harry’s earlobe and smiles when he feels his big hands settling on his hips, tugging him a bit closer, “I have a gift for you”.

Harry snorts but it comes out airy, “That’s a bad line, baby”.

Louis laughs and threads his fingers on Harry’s hair. It still feels a bit weird that he can’t pull at the long curls anymore. “I meant it,” he says, thinking about the small box seating on his bag.

He feels as Harry’s hands trail over the hem of his shirt, his fingers tracing over the exposed skin of his waist. _Screw it_ , Harry’s gift could wait.

Louis drops to his knees and smiles innocently at his boyfriend, making sure to look through his lashes in the way he knows it drives Harry crazy. His hands travel up Harry’s thighs slowly until they settle on the incipient bulge forming on his pants; he bites on his bottom lip to contain from giggling when he hears Harry gulping.

“Baby, we can’t,” Harry whispers urgently, moaning when Louis palms him over his clothes and starts to un-do his belt. “This is your mom’s house”.

“Tomorrow is my birthday,” Louis says as his fingers start to work over the button of his pants, belt undone. “I think I deserve a present”.

“ _Shit_ ,” Harry breathes out when Louis unzips him, tugging his jeans and briefs down, his cock, which has been getting thicker under the attention, comes into view, full and hard. Louis feels his mouth watering.

He blows over the tip softly, the cold air making Harry’s hip stutter, unsure if he wants to get closer or away. Louis makes the decision for him; he grips his thighs firmly and darts his tongue out to lick the precrome leaking out of it.

He takes his time as he wraps his tongue around Harry’s cock, relaxing his throat until he can feel him completely inside his mouth. He moans at the feeling and the vibration must send Harry a message, as his boyfriend is soon running his hands through his hair. Harry starts to thrust slowly into his mouth, the stretch and the emotions have Louis’ eyes filling with tears. There’s drool running down his chin, and he can feel when Harry’s movements start to become erratic, chasing for his release.

Louis pulls away quickly, making Harry let out a loud, frustrated groan. _So much for the family_ , he thinks smugly.

He stands up, cupping Harry’s face and tugs him back down for a scorching kiss. He moans when Harry’s tongue makes its way into his mouth, his hands working over Louis’ clothes fast, clearly in a rush to get him out of them.

Harry works him open fast, using Louis’ spit to slide his middle finger inside him. It’s only on the verge of _too much_ , the stretch of one of Harry’s fingers preparing him to take him burn with the lack of lube and preparation, but it also feels good. He whimpers when Harry retrieves his finger, his hole clenching at the loss.

“Harry, c’mon,” he urges, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m going to get the lube, baby,” Harry whispers back as he walks to their bags and extracts the small bottle. He coats his fingers quickly and Louis almost jumps at the bed, positioning himself in all fours. Harry positively groans at the sight. “ _Fuck_ , baby, you can’t just do that”.

“You love it,” he teases, but the smugness in his voice quickly turns into a plea when Harry pads over his rim.

He exhales slowly as he takes in Harry’s fingers, his breath trembling when they easily find his prostate, brushing relentlessly over the bundle of nerves. The three little words that have been roaming around his mind for the last two weeks fight to leave his mouth, and he barely bites them back as he feels Harry lining himself up with his hole.

Harry slides in in one long, deep thrust, barely giving time for Louis to adjust to him before he starts pounding into him. He fucks into him incessantly, building a fast rhythm that tells Louis he wants to get them off quick. His mouth is attached to the back of Louis’ neck, his hot breath sending shivers doing his spine with each thrust.

 _I love you,_ he thinks as Harry stills his movements, the sensation of his hot spurs of come dripping out of his hole send him over the edge, joining Harry and collapsing over the bed. Harry lays beside him, his fingers brushing up and down his spine as their breathing evens out, his boyfriend kissing his temple tenderly.

 _I love you_ , his mind repeats, and he tilts his head to press his lips against Harry’s, kissing him deeply before the words can twist their way around his tongue.

“I have something for you,” he says after a while, when their breaths have finally calmed.

“So you weren’t saying that just to get into my pants?” Harry chuckles, tightening his hold on Louis’ waist as he squirms until their faces are in front of the other.

“I mean, I’m always trying to get into your pants,” Louis smiles, kissing the tip of Harry’s nose. His boyfriend is looking at him with a soft expression, “But, I do have something for you, so that part was true”.

“Why do you have something for me when your birthday is tomorrow?” Harry says, rolling onto his back as Louis stands up from the bed, putting on some joggers and walking shirtless to search for the box that’s been waiting for him on his bag. “I’m supposed to give something to you, baby, that’s how birthdays work”.

“Well it’s not technically my birthday yet,” Louis looks over his shoulder to give him a smile. Harry’s already putting on some sweatpants and a sweater. “Are you cold, love?”

“It’s December in North England, Lou, aren’t you cold?”

He hums, “Not really,” he felt too nervous to be cold. His fingers finally find the box, curling around it to take it out and hide it behind his back before Harry sees it.

He walks towards the bed, sitting in front of Harry. He’s nervous and he knows Harry can tell as his face scrunches in a frown.

If Louis is honest, there’s nothing else he loves more than being with Harry, and he knows he’s certain about what he’s going to do. Any doubt on his mind was washed away when he saw how perfect Harry fitted with his family, joking with his sisters and actually listening to the nonsense the baby twins babbled to him, helping his mother and bantering as they cooked; it was as if Harry was the one, he was meant to be all along. He’s sure of it.

He wasn’t scared to think about the future, not anymore, not since he’d met Harry, and he’s confident that Harry feels and thinks the same about him. Louis knows that it wasn’t easy for Harry at first, their lives were completely opposite and both of them had their own bad experiences with relationships, but with the course of the weeks together he could see Harry growing confident and happier.

“Baby?” Harry asks, resting his hand on Louis’ thigh, squeezing gently to get his attention.

He blushes and sets the box on the space between their bodies. Harry gasps audibly,

The box was a small red velvet one.

“It’s not what you think it is,” he rushes to say as Harry looks at him with his mouth open, “You can tell me if you don’t like it, okay? Just, huh, open it?”

Harry reaches out and takes the box in his trembling hands. His eyes fill with tears as soon as he opens it.

“Oh, Lou,” he breathes out, his voice tight. “It’s beautiful”.

Louis exhales in relief, watching as Harry carefully takes out the necklace from the box. It’s a thin chain made of white gold, a small labradoodle pendant hanging from it. Louis smiles as Harry takes the figure closer to his face, looking at it in awe; he had to ask the people at the store to make one specifically for him, as he wanted it to be perfect. He wanted to find a perfect way to show Harry his feelings, even if he wasn’t ready to say them out loud yet, he wanted to portray their history.

“There’s something in the back,” he whispers, still feeling a bit anxious as Harry flipped the pendant in that looked like a miniature Clifford. 

_H, it was always you_.

“I, huh,” Louis clears his throat nervously, his hands are sweating, and he wants nothing more than to reach out and wipe the tears that are sliding down Harry’s face, but he needs to say this, “I hope you like it, Haz. It says that because it’s how I feel about you,” he explains, “I was so lost for so long, baby, I never knew what I was looking for, I couldn’t find inspiration to write, I was feeling lonely even when I was surrounded with people. And then I–, then you came into my life and changed _everything_. It made me realize than the one thing I was missing was you. It was always you, Harry”.

Harry was openly crying now, setting the necklace gently on the box again and cupping Louis’ cheeks. He leans towards him, pressing their mouths into a tender kiss. It was as if Harry was trying to communicate everything through that kiss, how happy he’d felt since they met and how happy is right now.

“Thanks, Lou,” Harry says, his voice wobbly as he sniffles, pressing a wet kiss to the corner of Louis’ lips. “I love it, baby, so _so_ much”.

“Really?” he asks, just to watch Harry smile again.

“Really,” Harry says, wiping the tears from his cheeks. “My gift seems kind of lame now”.

Louis laughs loudly, brushing his lips against Harry’s one more time. “Having you here it’s the perfect birthday present,” he threads his fingers with Harry’s, taking them to his mouth to kiss each knuckle. “I mean it, H, just–, seeing you today with my family, having you here in the house I grew up in, it’s everything I need”.

“I’m happy to be here,” Harry whispers, trailing his fingers along Louis’ jawline. “I’m happy to be with you, Lou. You make me happy”.

Louis takes the duvet of the bed to cover both of them, squirming until they find their usual position to sleep. Louis’ head laying on Harry’s chest, listening to the calming beat of his heart.

 _I love you_ , he thinks, kissing Harry’s collarbones. He’ll tell him soon.

⤜ H ⤛

“C’mon tell me,” Louis pleads, his lip curled in a lovely pout as he flutters his eyelashes. Harry smiles, “I know you have a least favourite”.

“I don’t,” he shrugs. Louis’ album came out this morning, and of course the first thing Harry did was listen to it. He really isn’t lying when he says he doesn’t have a least favourite song; the first time he listened to the album he’d cried with almost every song, his heart so full of happiness and adoration for the man he feared his chest was going to burst. He’s been listening to it on repeat all day. “You do realize you’re making me pick a least favourite song of the album you’ve said constantly is entirely about me”.

“Tell me any then,” Louis insists, making Harry laugh.

“I’d be lying to you, baby, I genuinely love all of them”.

“Wanker,” Louis mutters under his breath, although Harry can see he’s holding back a smile.

“You do know I genuinely love the album, right?” He asks, taking Louis’ hand. “Lou, it’s so amazing, and I’m not saying that because you’re my boyfriend or anything, and I may not know that much about music but it’s my favourite one from all of your albums, like, I can’t see myself getting tired of it”.

“Really?” Louis asks, threading their fingers and turning his head to look at Harry, “I was so nervous about you actually liking it and not just saying that to make me feel good”.

“Baby,” he coos, cupping Louis’ chin with his free hand, “I’ll always be honest with you, so trust me when I say I really, _really_ loved it”.

Louis looks like he’s having a mental battle with himself, a million emotions crossing behind his eyes. Harry wonders if he should push the subject, but he ultimately decides against. He trusts Louis will tell him if it’s something important.

Instead, he flops onto the bed of their hotel, watching as Louis stands up and starts rummages through his suitcase in search of his favourite coat, again. They were supposed to go out an hour ago to have enough time to grab lunch and walk around New York before having to go to Louis’ soundcheck, but _someone_ had to spend all that time looking for the coat Harry is sure Louis left in London.

“Baby, you can use mine,” he says for the tenth time, “We kind of have to go”.

“I know, I know,” Louis sighs. “Fine, let’s go, otherwise we’re going to be late for the soundcheck, but I’m taking your furry coat”.

“Sure, Lou,” Harry laughs, walking to press a kiss on his forehead, “That one suits you”.

“It does, right?” Louis takes the coat Harry is offering him, smiling when he helps him, holding it up so he can slide his arms easily. “Thanks, love”.

Harry blushes at the pet name. It doesn’t matter how many times Louis says those words to him, it’ll always make him feel like the first time.

They leave their hotel room not long after that, walking hand in hand the short way to the Times Square, where Louis and his band are doing the soundcheck. It surprises Harry the amount of people who are waiting there, considering the show is tomorrow.

“Soundcheck still is like a mini version of the show, so a lot of the fans like to come,” Louis tells him when he makes the comment, tugging Harry through the security line as best as he can.

“Does that mean I can count today as my first Louis Tomlinson concert then?” He asks, smiling innocently at Louis. He knows it doesn’t.

“No,” Louis answers like Harry knew he would. “But I think you’re going to enjoy this one as much as a real concert”.

“Why do I feel like that means something?” He narrows his eyes at the singer, helping him to hop onto the stage. Why Louis can’t use the stairs like a normal human Harry isn’t sure, but he still indulges him. The crowd around the stage start screaming as soon as Louis gets up.

“I think you’ll have to wait and see,” Louis says as he offers him a hand to help him up as well. Harry takes it, struggling only a bit to get up without the help pf any steps, causing Louis to laugh when he loses his balance for a second. “Careful there, love, you don’t want my fans to know you’re as clumsy as a baby giraffe”.

“Heeey,” he complains, but he’s smiling so he figures he doesn’t sound very convincing.

“C’mon, let’s say hi to the band”.

Louis waves at his fans and blows them a few kisses, mouthing the words thank you over and over again, and then takes Harry’s hand to guide him towards the band, where he gets introduced politely.

They only wait around for about ten minutes until the people in charge are signaling for Louis to start his set. He knows it’s only soundcheck but Harry can tell Louis is nervous as he puts his sound blockers on, so he runs a hand soothingly over his boyfriend’s back.

Louis lets him go with a soft kiss, their lips barely brushing before he walks to the mic. Harry decides he wants to enjoy this as realistic as he can so he gets off the stage –using the stairs this time– and goes to stand at the edge of the fence separating the fans from them.

“Hi, Harry,” one of them says as he stands next to Louis’ guard.

“Hi,” he mumbles quietly, smiling shyly as a blush creeps up his cheeks.

It’s always a bit strange when he’s reminded of the fact that people know who he is, that no matter how hard they try his and Louis’ relationship will never be completely private, but as he hears the screams of the fans around him when Louis mumbles a _hi_ into the microphone he knows he wouldn’t have it any other way. This is what Louis loves to do, what makes him happy, and he wants Louis to be happy.

“I hope everyone is doing alright,” Louis says, eliciting more screams from his fans. “Thank you for being here even though it’s fucking freezing”.

More screams follow Louis’ words, making Harry smile. He has a feeling his fans love it when Louis swears.

“I know you’re probably dying to hear the songs from the album,” Louis smiles brightly when screams confirm his statement. “But, I’d like to start with something different… This first song didn’t make it to the album,” he continues, and Harry frowns at his words, both intrigued and confused, “I couldn’t be on the album actually, because I only wrote it last night when I was on a plane destined here and my boyfriend was sleeping beside me,” Harry’s heart skips a beat as the words register in his mind and he looks up to stare at Louis with wide eyes. “So, excuse us if this sounds a little rough, but it’s literally our first time trying it”.

Harry is stunned as the fans around them have kept almost completely quiet during Louis’ explanation, thousands of cellphones recording every word. He’s sure he feels a couple of them pointed to him but he can’t force himself to bother when Louis’ words are repeating in his mind.

“Okay everyone, this is Fireproof,” Louis says, and searches for Harry’s eyes as he speaks again, “I hope you like it”.

A sweet, high-pitched guitar melody starts, and Harry smiles when he notices the way Louis’ hands are trembling as he grabs the microphone stand. His eyes are still focused on Harry as he opens his mouth to start singing.

_I think I'm gonna lose my mind  
Something deep inside me, I can't give up  
I think I'm gonna lose my mind  
I roll and I roll 'til I'm out of luck  
Yeah, I roll and I roll 'til I'm out of luck_

Louis teas his gaze from Harry, watching his fans’ reactions. Harry barely notices anything, his eyes closing as he listens to the words carefully, a knot forming on his chest as he tries to contain the emotion pouring out of him.

_I'm feeling something deep inside  
Hotter than a jet stream burning up  
I got a feeling deep inside  
It's taking, it's taking all I got  
Yeah, it's taking, it's taking all I got_

_'Cause nobody knows you, baby, the way I do  
And nobody loves you, baby, the way I do  
It's been so long, it's been so long, maybe you are fireproof  
'Cause nobody saves me, baby, the way you do_

Harry’s eyes open at the words, his heart racing as Louis continues to sing the chorus oblivious to the reactions he’s causing in Harry. He lets the words sink in as Louis’ voice continues, his mind repeating ‘ _nobody loves you the way I do_ ’ like a mantra.

_I think I'm gonna win this time  
Riding on the wind and I won't give up  
I think I'm gonna win this time  
I roll and I roll, 'til I change my luck  
Yeah, I roll and I roll, 'til I change my luck_

_'Cause nobody knows you, baby, the way I do  
And nobody loves you, baby, the way I do  
It's been so long, it's been so long, you must be fireproof  
'Cause nobody saves me, baby, the way you do_

There are thousands of people screaming around him as the song comes slowly to an end, but Harry can only focus on one thing. His eyes meet Louis’ blue ones and finds his boyfriend smiling at him from the stage, ignoring everything around them as well.

And then, it feels like he’s falling. Harry’s falling like the leaves were falling around them the first time Harry saw Louis from across the park; they were falling as if they were in love with the ground, like pieces into place. It’s like autumn: sudden, but also expected, as if that’s what leaves where meant to do all along, as if _this_ is what he was meant do all along.

He’s falling for the man in front of him, who’s looking at him as if he were the ground and the sky and everything in between. The pieces on his heart falling into place.

He’s falling, or floating, or maybe they’re just anchoring their lives to one another, the final click that ties them together making him realize that he’s not really falling in love right now. He fell a long time ago, probably since the very first time they spoke. Instead, he’s now just feeling the impact, he’s standing up from the grown, his eyes wide open and ready for everything there is to come.

His hand travels up to curl around his necklace, the one in the shape of Clifford, the embossment of the letters in the back of it grounding Harry, weighting him down with reality.

 _“I love you,”_ he says, or he mumbles, he can’t really tell from all the noise around him. Or perhaps he doesn’t care, too focused on the way Louis’ eyes widen in surprise, realization slowly sparkling behind them, his lips curling into the biggest smile Harry has ever seen on him.

His smile is brighter than all the flashes coming from his fans’ phones, his eyes never leaving Harry’s as the chords for his next song start, his mouth pronouncing the same words back to him.

 _“I love you too_ ”.

Harry smiles widely, beaming with happiness. The background noise completely invisible to him by now

He can’t wait for Louis’ soundcheck to end, to run back on that stage and say those words to his boyfriend’s face. He can’t wait to hear them back.

Harry doesn’t think he could ever be happier than he is in this moment, with Louis singing to him the words that are about him, about them.

Louis makes it his mission to prove him wrong every day for the rest of their lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so so sooo much if you got to this point! Honestly this fic was a wild ride hahah
> 
> if you like the story, it would mean the world to me if you reblog the tumblr post [here](https://vthelarrie.tumblr.com/post/634944037738217472/lost-and-found-by-vthelarrie-e-bl-i-51k-now) ♥
> 
> you can follow me on Tumblr [here](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/vthelarrie) (vthelarrie) and on Twitter [here](https://twitter.com/00svicky) (@00svicky).


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